
■■■■,. -w---- 




Glass_ 
Book. 






THE THOUSAND AND SECOND 
NIGHT 



A ROMANTIC COMEDY 



BY 

FREDERIC S. ISHAM 

AUTHOR OF 

"THE SOCIAL BUCCANEER," 

"HALF A CHANCE," 

"UNDER THE ROSE." 

THE STROLLERS," "BLACK FRIDAY. 

"THE LADY OF THE MOUNT" 



DETROIT: 

Conway Brief Co., 142-150 Lafayette Boulevard 

1911 



si-i 






Copyright, 1911 

by 

FREDERIC S. ISHAM, 

Detroit, Mich. 



©CID 25957 



ACT I. The Sub-Court of a Mosque at Damascus. 

ACT II. Few Days Later. Court and Garden of Fatmeh's House. 

ACT III. Several Days Later. The End of a Rocky Pass, Leading to the 
Desert. 

ACT IV. Several Weeks Later. A Villa in a Little Syrian Town, Overlooking 
the Mediterranean. 



But if the husband give sentence of divorce to her a third time, saying "Thou 
art free," or "Z divorce you," three times, it is not lawful for him to take her 
hack again, until she shall have married another husband and been divorced 
by that second husband. Then may the first husband re-marry her whom he had 
set from him and no blame shall attach to any of them. 

Koran, chapter II, verse 226 



CHARACTERS 

DERVISH (a young American who dis- 
guised goes to Mecca, afterward, an 
Aboo-Zeydee, or romance-reciter). 

AMAD (an old diamond merchant, Fat- 
meh's first husband). 

SADI, the Saddler (distant relative of 
Amad). 

EL SABBAGH, the Dyer (emissary of 
Amad). 

HIS COMPANION. 

LORD FITZGERALD (an Englishman 
with ichom the young American has 
a waper). 

NATIVE SERVANT (of Lord Fitzger- 
ald). 

DOORKEEPER OF MOSQUE. 

LETTER-WRITER IN MOSQUE 
COURT. 

CUSTODIAN. 

SWEEPER. 

BEGGAR. 

GUIDE. 

MAN ON MINARET. 

CARETAKER OF FATMEH'S HOUSE. 

FATMEH (formerly young tvife of 
Amad). 

LIGHT OF LIFE (her stepmother). 

CARETAKER'S WIFE. 

SERVANT (in last act). 

WOMAN DICTATING LETTER (first 
act). 

FIRST WOMAN (first act). 

SECOND WOMAN (first act.) 

THIRD WOMAN (first act). 

People going in and, out of mosque, first 
act; soldiers and people outside 
second act; Sadi and Amad's men, 
third act; people outside villa, fourth 
act. 



ACT I. 



The sub-court of a mosque in Damas- 
cus. At back, on one side to the right, 
narrow entrance ; doorkeeper ; aged let- 
ter-writer squatting near at back, be- 
hind his paraphernalia. Other side of 
stage, beyond low wall, an imposing 
mansion. Right of stage is occupied by 



the colonnade beyond ichich is mosque 
itself with minaret. At back to the left, 
is a small fountain and, washing place, 
with recess behind. People pass into 
court leaving shoes at entrance, and 
others pass from mosque to entrance, 
putting on their shoes as they go out. 
Lord Fitzgerald and guide are discov- 
ered looking up at mosque near mosque 
entrance. Fitzgerald wears a monocle 
and is a man of middle age. 

GUIDE (traditional manner of guides) 
Yonder sacred edifice is among the 
most unique and ancient structures of 
the kind in the world. It represents 
the best traditions in Arabic art, com- 
bining dignity and grace in equitable 
proportions. It— (They exit into mos- 
que, guide still talking.) 

CUSTODIAN (looking after them) 
The time is coming when only those 

of the true faith will be allowed in the 

mosque. 

A native woman who has paused be- 
fore letter-writer near entrance at back, 
now squats down at his side. 

WOMAN (dictating) 
Sunlight of my eyes 

WRITER (repeating) 
— My eyes 

WOMAN 
My husband will not be home Friday 
next — 



WRITER 
Not home — Friday next — (They go 
on in pantomime.) 

Enter Dervish who leaves his sandals 
at the door and goes to the pool where 
he laves himself and postures once or 
twice. He wears cloak of rags and has 
sxoarthy beard. 

VOICE ON THE MINARET 
Allah is most great! There is no 
deity but Allah. 



WOMAN (dictating) 
Therefore I — I — (hesitates) 

WRITER (glibly) 
— Long for you, yearn for you! Your 
eyes have made me dizzy. Your lips 
are as sugar. 

WOMAN (ecstatically) 
How did you know I wanted to say 
that? 



Oh! 



WRITER (cynically) 



VOICE ON MINARET 
Allah is great! Come to prayer! 
Come! 

WOMAN (dictating) 
So come to me — come! — come!! 

DERVISH (looking toward her) 
For this do women come to prayer. 
Or (gazing toward three women, half 
up stage to left) for an almost equally 
diverting reason. 

FIRST WOMAN (indicating imposing 
mansion heyond low wall at left) 
They say he has divorced his young 
wife? 

SECOND WOMAN 
It is, indeed, true, as I have reason 
to know. 

FIRST WOMAN 
Light of Life will be put out. It was 
she who arranged the wedding. 

SECOND WOMAN 
May and December! 

THIRD WOMAN 
But such a splendid match for any 
young girl. He is the richest man in 
Damascus. 

SECOND WOMAN (lively tone) 
And old enough, so that if she had a 
mind for a lover or two? — 

FIRST WOMAN 
True; old husbands are best. The 
easiest hoodwinked! 

THIRD WOMAN 
The older the better. A husband im- 
proves with age. You can't get them 
too old. Even if they are so old their 
eyesight is failing, a young and pretty 
wife (with a laugh) should not com- 
plain. 

SECOND WOMAN 
No, indeed. So long as there are 
plenty of gallants with good eyes for 



a fine face, or figure. A fool girl (look- 
ing at mansion) to have put out such 
as he! 

ONE OP THE CUSTODIANS (ap- 
proaching) 

"Put out?" Put out whom? Out 
upon you all! Is it thus you come to 
worship? 

FIRST WOMAN 
We were but speaking of Amad, the 
rich old diamond merchant, and his 
young bride whom he has divorced. 

CUSTODIAN (interested) 
Eh? 

THIRD WOMAN 
About two weeks ago. I even heard 
it all from this very spot, when I came 
to — worship, (accent) 

And I too. His voice floated from 
his home yonder (indicating mansion). 
Oh, but he was angry. "I divorce 
you, I divorce you, I divorce you," he 
said three times. (Imitating man's 
angry tones.) 

FIRST WOMAN 
Then he has put her aside, indeed! 
Three times! It is the triple,— the ir- 
revocable divorce. 

THIRD WOMAN 
Unless — You know the expedient, if 
he should change his mind and want 
her back? 

SECOND WOMAN 
But he would never do that. 

CUSTODIAN (wisely) 
Who shall say "never," when the 
husband is seventy and the bride, sev- 
enteen? Age is like dry tinder, youth 
the match. Once it is applied — Whew! 
(makes a gesttire) But I have heard 
that this young bride whom Amad 
has recently divorced is not of our 
people — that her mother was Greek? 

SECOND WOMAN 
There is some story that her father, 
too, was an European. I believe the 
mother was a part of the loot carried 
away when our soldiers pillaged a cer- 
tain Greek town. Later, after the 
mother died, the mission people who 
are always meddling got hold of the 
child, to bring her up as a Christian. 

THIRD WOMAN (horrified) 
A Christian? 



SECOND WOMAN 
Even so. But she, fortunately, was 
rescued from her evil surroundings by 
her step-mother, Light of Life, a fol- 
lower of the true faith. No doubt un- 
der that worthy woman's pious influ- 
ence, she has entirely forgotten the 
pernicious precepts with which the 
missionary dogs would have contam- 
inated her young mind. 

CUSTODIAN (piously) 
Allah grant it! 

SWEEPER OF THE COURT (ap- 

proacfiing icith broom) 
Stand aside, good people, in the name 
of the prophet! 

DERVISH (who Jias a moment before 
approached but not so near as to 
have overheard any of the fore- 
going conversation) 
Are we, then, to give way for dirt^ 
rubbish ? 

SWEEPER 
Even the dirt in the mosque court 
is sacred. Only man is vile. 

DERVISH (dubiously) 
Hum? 

CUSTODIAN 
I have heard there is one among us 
who certainly is that. 

DERVISH 
What mean you? 

CUSTODIAN 
A masquerading Christian who has 
dared go even to Mecca. (Dervish 
starts) 

FIRST WOMAN (fiercely) 
He has done that and not been— 

CUSTODIAN 
Killed? Even so! (The dervish 
wheels quickly and goes to fountain, 
where he turns his back) 

SECOND WOMAN 
But why?— 

CUSTODIAN 
Here comes one who can tell. 

Sadi, the saddler, xcho has been 
among those who have come out of 
the mosque, joins them. Dervish sees 
him and exits quickly into recess at 
back behind pool. 

CUSTODIAN (to Sadi) 
We were talking of the masquerad- 
ing Christian. 



SADI 

It is a long tale. We were fellow 
Pilgrims to Mecca. One moonlight 
evening I discovered him making 
drawings — which to a true believer is 
sacrilege — of one of our holiest places. 
I asked him what he did; his answer 
did not satisfy me. Hastily he con- 
cealed the bits of paper. This aroused 
my suspicion. I looked for a chance to 
verify my belief that he was an im- 
postor, but after making sacrifice, he 
hurriedly fled from Mecca. I, too, 
left, journeyed fast, and came up with 
him. My object was to obtain those 
drawings so as to make charges 
against him. But he eluded me again, 
left the caravan he was with and 
joined another — for Damascus. 

FIRST WOMAN 
Where he is now? 

SADI 
It may be. (Exits at back. Dervish 
at door of recess watches him go out, 
then dervish again exits into recess) 

SECOND WOMAN (looking after Sadi) 
A distant relative of Amad — 

SWEEPER 
Consume all dogs of Christians, say 
I! 

CUSTODIAN 
Allah grant it! 

(Enter Light of Life and Fatmeh at 
back. The manner of the three women 
once more becomes light and gossipy. 
They look at and nudffe one another.) 

SECOND WOMAN (indicating 
Fatmeh) 
She, of whom we were speaking! 

THIRD WOMAN 
The young bride — 

FIRST WOMAN 
And her step-mother. (As Light of 
Life and Fatmeh approach, the three 
iDomen and others move respectfully 
aside, for the two new-comers are robed 
as ladies of quality.) 

LIGHT OF LIFE (to Fatmeh) 
The disgrace! I am almost ashamed 
to show myself in this holy place. 

FATMEH (calmly) 
I do not find it a disgrace to be di- 
vorced from a man I despise. 

LIGHT OF LIFE (gasping) 
Despise! Small wonder he divorced 
you. But I have arranged for him to 



take you back. He is very much in 
love with you — unworthy that you are! 
— and has graciously relented. He will 
again receive you in his home, after 
certain vexatious formalities, neces- 
sary to that end, have been complied 
with! 

FATMEH 
I am satisfied as it is. 



Enter Amad from back. (He has 
evil wizened face and lohite beard. He 
is garbed in rich robes. He crosses to 
Light of Life. Fatmeh about to exit 
into mosque, sees him, pauses, then 
moves carelessly behind pillar, and as 
if not listening, listens.) 



Well? 



AMAD (anxiously) 



LIGHT OF LIFE (horrified) 
To remain a divorcee! Obstinate 
girl! Your ill behaviour has brought 
us to a shameful pass. This is my re- 
turn for years of pious training! I, 
who have never failed to instil in your 
mind that a wife's duty is love and 
obedience to her husband. 

FATMEH 
Love? (hard laugh) Love that old 
satyr! 

LIGHT OF LIFE (throwing up hands) 
To speak thus of one so venerable 
and worthy! A man to whom all 
Damascus bends in mingled veneration 
and regard! 

FATMEH (same tone) 
All Damascus isn't married to him. 

LIGHT OF LIFE (tvith pathos) 
So you repay my years of love and 
patient guidance! With disobedience, 
rebellion! Well, Allah will reward 
me! 



FATMEH (derisively) 
Allah! You mean Amad! 
much did he give you? 



How 



LIGHT OF LIFE 
Oh! (controlling herself) Fortu- 
nately I am your guardian. You have 
no voice in this matter. The law gives 
me the right to command. 

FATMEH 
And you intend? — 

LIGHT OF LIFE (insinuatingly) 
For your sake — 

FATMEH 
Do not mix hypocrisy with — (stops) 

LIGHT OF LIFE (grimly) 
Say it? 

FATMEH 
Of what avail? (starts toward mos- 
que) 

LIGHT OF LIFE (aside) 
Miserable girl! To impugn motives! 



LIGHT OF LIFE (effusively) 
Everything is satisfactory. 

AMAD (quickly) 
She is willing to be taken back? 

LIGHT OF LIFE (expansively) 
She rejoices in the prospect. (Fat- 
meh shows by her expression anger 
and contempt.) 

AMAD (suspiciously) 
She has not been wont to rejoice in 
my presence. 

LIGHT OF LIFE 
I have talked with her, shown her 
the error of her ways, and she has re- 
pented. 

FATMEH (aside) 
Oh! (shows hatred of Amad) 

LIGHT OF LIFE 
Besides, absence makes the heart — 

AMAD (skeptically) 
Hum? Well, I'll do my part. 

LIGHT OF LIFE 
Have you found the makeshift fel- 
low we must needs employ? 

AMAD 

Not yet. But it will soon be done. 
Though (froivning) I like not the 
method. 

LIGHT OF LIFE 
There is none other. In my day a 
slave served. Now (re-enter dervish, 
who takes his place at foimtain) we 
must find some miserable holy man 
like (indicating dervish) such a one. 

AMAD (aside) 
The very man! (Fatmeh, too, looks 
toward dervish) Though, as I said, I 
am sorry to introduce an irresponsible 
person into the matter. 

LIGHT OF LIFE (lively tone) 
Not if it restores her once more to 
your arms! Gives you again the right 
to caress — 



AMAD (bitterly) 



Again? 



LIGHT OF LIFE 
Ah, you ardent husbands! You have 
no patience with young and inexperi- 
enced brides. You expect them to wel- 
come matrimonial kisses with the same 
avidity they devour sweets, confection- 
ery or Turkish delight. You should 
give them time. You should remem- 
ber how modestly they are brought up. 

AMAD (eagerly) 
Then she is prepared now to — 

LIGHT OF LIFE (dignified tone) 
She is prepared to fulfill all wifely 
duties. (Fatmeh's hands clench.) 

AMAD (eagerly) 
Good! I will see about this fellow 
(looking toivards dervish) tonight. 
(Starts toward mosque.) 

LIGHT OF LIFE 
One moment. (Amad again turns to 
her. Fatmeh exits quickly into mos- 
que.) She (significantly ) is in there. 

AMAD 

And if so? (gazes more eagerly at 
mosque) 

LIGHT OF LIFE (murmuring) 
The proprieties — 

AMAD 

Why, has she not consented to re- 
turn to me? 

LIGHT OF LIFE 
True, but meanwhile? — 

AMAD (grumbling) 
Meanwhile? 

LIGHT OF LIFE 
The neighbors — 

AMAD (ill-humoredly) 
We must not forget the neighbors! 
(Amad turns and exits at back.) 

LIGHT OF LIFE (aside) 
The old fool! To jeopardize so much 
by a useless quarrel! 

VOICE ON MINARET 
Allahu akbar (chant follows) 

{TWO INCHES of SPACE HERE) 

All on stage posture. People come 
out of mosque, among the last of them. 
Lord, Fitzgerald arid guide. 



FITZGERALD (to guide) 
Don't think much of your mosque! 
They have finer in Cairo. 

GUIDE (apologetically) 
I am sorry. I regret milord is dis- 
appointed. 

(Dervish who has seen Fitzgerald, 
shows interest and approaches him cau- 
tiously.) 

FITZGERALD (draivling tone) 
You say all Europeans have left the 
city? 

GUIDE 
It is quite true. The few who were 
here have gone. 

FITZGERALD (drawling tone) 
They fear an uprising? 

GUIDE 
Evidently. Your lordship is about 
the last foreigner remaining in the 
city. I have heard milord intends to 
motor across the desert? 

FITZGERALD 
Quite true. But I believe we have 
other sights to see. The house of 
Annanias, for example. I have always 
felt a great admiration for the gentle- 
men. He left such a numerous pro- 
geny. I should like to make a pilgrim- 
age to his shrine. (Starts to go.) 

DERVISH (low whisper) 
Fitzgerald! Lord Fitzgerald! 

FITZGERALD 
Eh? (looks around) Thought I 
heard my name. (One or two more 
people, among them Fatmeh, who 
have come out of the mosque, pass near 
dervish. Fatmeh, as if inadvertently, 
remains standing near, with her back 
to dervish. She shows by her attitude 
she wishes to speak to him. Dervish 
looks at Fitzgerald but Fatmeh's near 
presence forces him to remain silent.) 



FITZGERALD (pause) 
Must have been mistaken, 
could know me here? 



Who 



GUIDE 
Who indeed? (Dervish glances hur- 
riedly at Fatmeh. She does not move, 
so he does not speak again. Exit Fitz- 
gerald and guide at back, several peo- 
ple shoiving aversion as they pass out.) 

FATMEH (aside, trying to catch atten- 
tion of dervish) 
It is he they will employ. 



10 



DERVISH (noting her, hut without 
lifting 7iis eyes to the girVs eyes, 

aside) 
Confound the woman! (returns to 
place near fountain, aside) Fitzger- 
ald here! What a mad impulse to have 
spoken to him! As well I didn't suc- 
ceed. 

(Fatmeh gazes toioard him. Hesi- 
tates. Then looks about, seeking to see 
where Light of Life is. The latter has 
moved toward the letter-writer. Fat- 
meh, as if casually, again moves in the 
direction of the dervish.) 

FATMEH (aside) 
I must speak to him. I must at- 
tract his attention. (Aloud^ near der- 
vish) Be good enough to accept this 
slight gift, most holy man. Permit me 
to acquire merit by giving! (She 
drops purse. In getting it from her 
dress, she inadvertently disarranges 
her veil. Dervish does not appear to 
see purse, but looks at her face.) 

DERVISH (sudden start) 
How beautiful! (low voice) Where, 
lady, have I seen you before? 

FATMEH 
Before? (Disconcerted, she quickly 
re-adjusts her veil) Nowhere, I am 
sure. I did not intend — One is not 
supposed to show one's face. 



One 



DERVISH 
fair should be seen! 



FATMEH 
Such words! What a strange der- 
vish. (A beggar reaches down, gets 
the purse which the dervish has not 
seen, and moves quickly away with it.) 
There! You have lost the purse. 

DERVISH (still regarding her) 
What matter? 

LIGHT OF LIFE (near letter-writer) 
Fatmeh! (looks around, without 
seeing girl) 

FATMEH (nervously to dervish) 
I must go. Yet — (people stand be- 
tween them and Light of Life) 

DERVISH 
I shall remember — your charity. 

FATMEH (swiftly, eagerly) 
And later — You will be my friend, if 
need be? — 

DERVISH 
I do not understand. 



FATMEH 
I have no time now — 

LIGHT OF LIFE (looking toward 

mosque) 
Where is the girl? Still in the mos- 
que? 

FATMEH (moving toward her quickly) 
No — here — 

LIGHT OF LIFE (regarding her sus- 
piciously) 
Come! 

FATMEH (looking toward dervish) 
I did but stay to breathe an extra 
prayer. 

(Exit Light of Life and Fatmeh at 
back. Dervish continues to gaze after 
them.) 

FIRST WOMAN 
Heard you that? Brazen chit! "An 
extra prayer!" She showed her face! 

SECOND WOMAN 
And talked to a man! 

THIRD WOMAN (significantly) 
Though a man of prayers! 
(They laugh ironically and exit.) 

CUSTODIAN (roughly, approaching 
dervish) 
Here, you! What do you mean by 
staring after a lady? 

DERVISH (low tone) 
Who — who is she? 

CUSTODIAN (fanatically) 
Take shame for the question, rank 
pretender to piety! 

DERVISH (starts) 
Pretender! (Then he seizes custo- 
dian and begins to beat him) You 
tvould doubt my piety, would you? 

CUSTODIAN (struggling) 
I recant. You alone are a model of 
all virtues. I recant! Do not strike 
so hard. 

DERVISH (still beating him) 
Slanderer! To question one who has 
walked seven times around the sacred 
stone. 

CUSTODIAN 
Have mercy. 

DERVISH 
Who has slaughtered at the proper- 
time the sacred goat! 



CUSTODIAN (piteously) 
I did but jest. 

DERVISH (still beating) 
Have a care in the future, then, 
lest— 

CUSTODIAN (managing to escape) 
I will. Such a strong man must, in- 
deed, be very holy. (Runs out at back) 

(The stage has now become deserted 
by all, except the woman dictating the 
letter, the letter-writer, the doorkeeper 
and the dervish. The first three have 
paid no attention to the scene between 
dervish and custodmn. being accus- 
tomed to mosque squabbles.) 

THE WOMAN (surveying message the 
professional writer has prepared 

for her) 
A jewel of a letter! Now to kiss my 
husband and tell him to enjoy his 
journey. (8he exits at back.) 

(The doorkeeper walks over to the 
dervish. Sunset effect.) 

DOORKEEPER 
You are going to sleep here, holy 
one? 



Yes. 



DERVISH (curtly) 



DOORKEEPER (insinuatingly) 
There's a fee for? — 

DERVISH (sayne tone) 
I have no money. 

DOORKEEPER (grumbling) 
Oh, well! (contemptuoHshi) Too bad 
they allow such vagabonds to sleep 
in the mosques. (He tcalks toward 
door at back. The letter-icritcr has 
gathered up his traps.) A good day's 
work? (addressing letter-ioriter) 

WRITER 
Only seventeen intrigues and one 
business letter. 

DOORKEEPER 
Commerce is looking up. 

WRITER 
And intrigues are looking down. 

DOORKEEPER (nodding toicard man- 
sion) 
This rich diamond merchant who 
has divorced his young bride — she, I'll 
warrant (insinuatingly) was among 
your most profitable customers, eh? 



WRITER 
Not she — 

DOORKEEPER (confidentially) 
Come — come — Between old friends? — 

WRITER 
There was no Intrigue I know of. 

DOORKEEPER (incredulously) 
A divorce, without an intrigue? 

WRITER (resentfully) 
Damascus is not what it used to be. 

DOORKEEPER 

Or she is very discreet! 

WRITER 
Perhaps she indites her own letters. 
(viciously) They tell me women are 
actually beginning to learn to write. 

DOORKEEPER ( dmibtingly ) 
In that case, Allah help all the hus- 
bands! 

WRITER 
Yes; 'tis putting a premium on im- 
morality. (Exit writer at back) 

DOORKEEPER (tossing a few old 
shoes outside) 
A plague take people who leave their 
old boots behind. Rubbish instead of 
piasters. (He looks back toward the 
dervish.) Well, there isn't anything 
for him to steal. (He goes out to lie 
down on couch outside of doorivay. Per- 
haps just his feet can be seen.) 

(Dervish gets up. stretches himself 
and yawns.) 

DERVISH 
I'd almost swear I knew those eyes! 
Heigho! How hungry I am. Oh, for 
a chop at Brown's, on Broadway, laced 
with a tankard of old musty, (patise) 
It's lucky Sadi did not see me. Con- 
found the fellow! He's becoming a 
bore. How^ am I to get out of Damas- 
cus without a piaster? And the city 
on the verge of an uprising! (Pause) 
Those people would certainly make 
short shift of me if they discovered / 
was the dog of a Christian who, dis- 
guised, had succeeded in reaching 
Mecca. (Pause) I wonder who she 
was? (Amad appears at window of his 
house, closes lattice and exits. The 
dervish does not see him.) Perhaps we 
were acquainted in some other incar- 
nation. Wish I could hark back to it 
now. (Ruefully. He lies down.) A 
chop! My kingdom for a chop! (He 



sleeps. Deeper sunset effect, but not 
dark.) 

(El-Sabbagh, the dyer, and his com- 
panion appear at the back entrance) 

EL-SABBAGH (to doorkeeper asleep 

tcithout) 

We come to look for a holy man. 

DOORKEEPER 
What holy man? 

EL SABBAGH 
One who may still be here. 

DOORKEEPER 
Well, enter. But take away your 
shoes when you go. 

(FA Eabbagh and his Companion 
enter) 

EL SABBAGH (gazing toward der- 
vish) 
There he is. (gratified) He has not 
gone. 

COMPANION 
We're in luck. 

EL SABBAGH 
Perhaps. (They move toward der- 
vish. El Sabbagh bends over and 
touches him. Dervish springs to his 
feet, as ready to defend himself.) 

DERVISH (menacingly) 
What do you want? (Both visitors, 
startled, draw back.) 

EL SABBAGH 

To speak with you. 

DERVISH 
About what? (Orips weapon be- 
neath cloak.) 

(The two, apart, speak together, 
glancing nervously at the dervish.) 

EL SABBAGH 
Think you he seems likely? 

COMPANION 
He is ragged enough! 

EL SABBAGH (doubtfully) 
But rather militant. 

DERVISH (aggressively) 
What's all this mummery about? 

(The two other men look at each 
other and show timidity.) 



EL SABBAGH (to companion) 
You go. 

COMPANION (to El Sabbagh) 
No, you! 

EL SABBAGH (approaching dervish) 
Be good enough to follow us. 

DERVISH (startled, but containing 
himself) 
Why? 

EL SABBAGH 
That you will know later. 

DERVISH 
I will know now. 

EL SABBAGH 
This is no place. We come as bene- 
factors. 

DERVISH (secret irony) 
Benefactors? (He looks at them 
guardedly.) I'm comfortable where I 
am. 

EL SABBAGH 
What do you fear? 

DERVISH 
Nothing, (boldly) Only, I'm sleepy. 
Be oft! 

(El Sabbagh and Companion again 
speak apart.) 

EL SABBAGH 
What are we to do? 

COMPANION 
Find some other holy man? 

EL SABBAGH 
That may not be easy tonight. Be- 
sides, our instructions — 

COMPANION 
Try again. Be more conciliatory! 
Soothe him! 

EL SABBAGH (to dervish) 
We have to apologize most humbly 
for disturbing your rest, but perhaps, 
in the end, you will thank us. Deign 
then to follow us, and for tonight and 
some days, to become our honored 
guest. 

DERVISH 
Guest? (He laughs derisively.) 

EL SABBAGH 
Yes; one who will be well fed, finely 
clothed, and given a fat purse into the 
bargain. 



13 



DERVISH (aside) 
Fed? (He looks at the other earn- 
estly. Aloud) Who are you? Haroun 
al Rashid? 

EL SABBAGH 
We claim no such distinction. (Aside, 
to eompanion) Most dervishes — half- 
witted, you know! 

COMPANION (aside, to El Sabbagh) 
All the better for our purpose! 

EL SABBAGH (to dervish) 
We are plain citizens of Damascus. 
Haroun al Rashid died several cen- 
turies ago. (Indulgently) But tell me, 
Oh Holy One, are you hungry? 

DERVISH (aside) 
Am I? (Aloud, calmly) Why? 

EL SABBAGH 
Because I know a little cafe near by, 
where the proprietor is such a cook! 
He is especially famous for his succu- 
lent stews — 



DERVISH (aside) 



Stews! 



EL SABBAGH 
— made of young lamb, garnished 
with olives, apricots and figs! Never 
was such a stew. It melts in your 
mouth. 

DERVISH (sotto voce) 
Truly, it is the caliph of Bagdad, 
come to torment me. 

EL SABBAGH (noting the other's in- 
terest) 
And then there are his entrees of 
young larks, served with choice syrups. 
When one has no appetite, that dish 
inspires it. When one has — um! (He 
raises an enraptured fat face) But if 
you prefer something else than larks 
or succulent stew, I can especially 
recommend the chops of this wonderful 
cook — 

DERVISH 

Chops! (recovers himself) Never 
mind enumerating any more of his 
dishes. I've no doubt he prepares 
them well. But, alas, for me, are those 
delicacies forbidden. (Regretfully.) 

EL SABBAGH 
Not if you go with us! 

DERVISH 
My pockets are empty. 



EL SABBAGH 
IVe pay. 

DERVISH 
You pay him. How do I pay you? 

EL SABBAGH 
We'll talk about that over good 
things to eat. 

DERVISH (firmly) 
Better talk about it before I eat 
them. 

EL SABBAGH (to companion) 
Here's an honest fellow! 

COMPANION (to El Sabbagh) 
Truly, we are fortunate. 

EL SABBAGH (to companion) 
Or someone else is! (significantly) 

COMPANION (to El Sabbagh) 
Someone else, of course! 

EL SABBAGH 
There is a slight service you can 
perform in return for all we propose 
doing for you, a very slight one. 

DERVISH 
What is it? 

EL SABBAGH 
Nothing much. You're to get mar- 
ried. 

DERVISH (amazed) 
Get— what? 



EL SABBAGH 
Married! That's all. 



Oh! 



DERVISH (satirically) 



EL SABBAGH 
You are to get married, and yet — 
not get married. 

DERVISH 
Very lucid! Perhaps you will tell 
me how — I'm to get married and yet 
not get married? 

EL SABBAGH 
It is very simple. You marry, and 
then you at once unmarry. 

DERVISH 
Humph! I marry and then, I, at 
once, unmarry? 

EL SABBAGH 
It is easy to do the last. You have 
only to say "I divorce you," three 
times. 



DERVISH (sotto voce) 
Divorce made easy! 

EL SABBAGH 

It is the law. 

DERVISH 
The Mohammedan law? Yes! 

EL SABBAGH (surprised) 
What know we of any other? 

DERVISH (hastily) 
Of course! (Aside) Damascus vs. 
Reno. (Aloud) But why am I to get 
married? 

EL SABBAGH 

To meet a little exigency. 

DERVISH (studying the two) 
And when am I to get married? 

EL SABBAGH 
To-morrow! 

DERVISH 
The prophet forbid! To whom? 

EL SABBAGH 
A lady of quality. 

DERVISH 
Ah, a marriage in high life! Is she 
old? 



EL SABBAGH 



Young. 



DERVISH 
Beautiful? (almost fiercely) Don't 
make her beautiful, that is, if I have 
to unmarry her, at — 

EL SABBAGH AND HIS COMPAN- 
ION (speaking together) 
She is beautiful as an houri! 

DERVISH (regarding them.) 
Both together! And they look like 
connoisseurs! She must be very beau- 
tiful. I'm afraid, gentlemen, (briskly) 
I can't consider your proposition — 

EL SABBAGH 
We note your displeasure, as a holy 
man; that she is beautiful. But what 
should it matter? You don't have to 
see her. 

DERVISH 
True. I only have to marry her! 

EL SABBAGH 
A mere matter of form! You marry, 
but, as I said, you do not see her. She 



will not annoy, or disturb your holy 
meditations. You are but a mere fig- 
ure-head, a pawn on the nuptial chess- 
board. 

DERVISH 
Most husbands are. But start at the 
beginning! Make your story short. I 
don't promise anything, (aside) Chops! 

EL SABBAGH 
We serve Amad Ahl Masr, the af- 
fluent jeweller whose palace overlooks 
this place. Now a short time past, 
Amad took unto himself a wife. Such 
a gala occasion! There were singers, 
dancers, feasting and dining. Delicate 
little kids, young fowl, whole sheep — 

DERVISH (quickly) 
Omit culinary details! (Aside) My 
mouth waters. 

EL SABBAGH 
Never did a wedding open more aus- 
piciously, or end more disastrously. 
For, though devoted to her lord, the 
lady was very young, and— 

DERVISH 
They clashed. (He shows impati- 
ence.) 

EL SABBAGH 
Unfortunately. She being young and 
innocent, thoughtlessly said, did or 
thought something that disturbed the 
erstwhile beneficent temper of my 
friend, benefactor and patron — 

COMPANION 
Our friend, benefactor and patron! 

EL SABBAGH 
Who, in an inadvertent moment, 
pronounced thrice the words that di- 
vorced her. 

DERVISH (curtly) 
And now he's sorry? 

EL SABBAGH 
At the spectacle of her grief. 

DERVISH 
Oh, the lady didn't want to be di- 
vorced, then? Exception to the rule! 

EL SABBAGH 
Her bitter tears melted his tender 
heart. She has begged to be taken 
back. 

DERVISH 
And he has consented? 



EL SABBAGH 
He has. Only as you know, there 
are difficulties. 

DERVISH 
Yes. By the Mohammedan law the 
lady must marry again and be divorced 
from husband number two, before hus- 
band number one, may remarry her. 
All of which is set forth in the Koran, 
chapter two, verse 229. 



EL SABBAGH 
There will be nothing wanting for 
your comfort. In the morning you 
will have honey and curdled cream 
served by a slave girl. 

DERVISH (satiricalhj) 
White? 



Black. 



EL SABBAGH 



EL SABBAGH 
Exactly! (to coinpanion) Truly this 
holy dervish is very learned in the 
Book. He even knows the number of 
the verse. 

DERVISH 
That I learned in the university at 
Cairo. Also, that when a husband is 
sorry he has divorced his wife, he looks 
around for some poor vagabond (indi- 
cating his ragged cloak) of a holy man, 
like myself, to act as Mustahall, or 
husband of convenience. 

EL SABBAGH (briskly) 
Quite so. The marriage ceremony 
will be brief. We'll omit the singing 
girls and the dancers — 

DERVISH (anxiously) 
But not the roast lambs and rams? 

EL SABBAGH 
And after the ceremony we take 
charge of you. 

COMPANION (meaningly) 
No doubt of that! 

EL SABBAGH 
We don't let you out of our sight. 

DERVISH 
Oh, I spend my honeymoon with — 
(looks ruefully at them) 

EL SABBAGH (soothingly) 
It will only be for a few days. You 
will lie in the lap of luxury. You will 
eat and drink all you like and have 
water pipes to smoke and coffee with 
ambergris in it. 

DERVISH 
Certainly a new kind of a honey- 



EL SABBAGH 
Yes; the improved article. 

DERVISH (aside) 
Ambergris in lieu of the bride! 



DERVISH (ironically) 
Can't you make her white? 

EL SABBAGH (seriously) 
Impossible to tamper with nature's 

laws! 

DERVISH 
And how does my bride spend her 
honeymoon? 

EL SABBAGH 
With her stepmother. 

DERVISH 
How exhilerating! 

EL SABBAGH 
She will be comforted by the large 
dowry you are to give her. 



I, give her' 



DERVISH 



EL SABBAGH 
That Amad gives her, for you. 

DERVISH 
Oh! He not only gives me his wife, 
but a dowry to go with her. Hope it 
will be a large one, commensurate with 
my dignity? 

EL SABBAGH (significantly) 
Light of Life will see to that. 

DERVISH 
Light of Life? 

EL SABBAGH 
Your mother-in-law. She is very 
practical. 

DERVISH 
Mother-in-law? I am to have a 
mother-in-law. 

EL SABBAGH (soothingly) 
Whom you, also, do not see after the 
ceremony! 

DERVISH (lively tone) 
There are some advantages in this 
way of being married. 



EL SABBAGH 
A lot of them! You are really a 
lucky fellow. All the festivities, with- 
out any of the after-responsibilities — 
Mothers-in-law, and all that. 

DERVISH 
True. I escape a great deal. 

EL SABBAGH (gravely) 
A real husband's duties are most ser- 
ious. My wife wept for hours after I 
took her from her mother's home. 

DERVISH (aside) 
Who would blame her? 

EL SABBAGH 
You don't take your bride away, so 
she doesn't weep. That's the advant- 
age of being a husband, and yet not 
being one. You don't have to wipe 
away her tears. Without any attend- 
ant vexations, you have still the right 
to say: "You-are-no-longer-my-wife." 

DERVISH (aside) 
To one who never has been! (aloud) 
But suppose, like Amad, I should be 
sorry for her afterwards? Awful 
thought! What if she should have 
learned to love me? 

EL SABBAGH (to companion, tap- 
ping his forehead) 
You see? (aloud) That is a contin- 
gency we may dismiss, (smiling) 

DERVISH 
What if she should weep to come 
back to me? 

EL SABBAGH (indulgently) 
Don't let us worry about that. 

DERVISH 
And what if I, after divorcing, 
should be led by her tears to regret? — 

EL SABBAGH 
This is getting a little complicated. 

DERVISH 
And want her back whom I have 
never had? — 

EL SABBAGH (more confused) 
Hold on! 

DERVISH 
And in order to encompass that, 
should myself appoint a substitute hus- 
band who, for his part, after divorcing 
her, might likewise regret — 

EL SABBAGH (helplessly) 
My head whirls! 



DERVISH 

The point is — To whom would she 
belong? 

EL SABBAGH (wiping face) 
Hanged if I know. I mean — Answer 

him (to companion) 

COMPANION 
We are digressing. You, sir (to der- 
vish) are proceeding from a false hy- 
pothesis. 

EL SABBAGH 
Yes — false hypothesis! (to compan- 
ion) Go on. 

COMPANION 
How could you regret divorcing 
someone you had never seen? 

EL SABBAGH (triumphantly) 
Yes; how could you? 

COMPANION 
Wliose tears you had never wiped 
away? Or whose kisses — 

EL SABBAGH (discreet horror) 
Ahem ! 

DERVISH (humbly) 
I was only trying to consider every 
view-point. 

EL SABBAGH (assuming initiative 
once more) 
I know you dervishes are rather 
weak-witted, but try to concentrate. 
Don't scatter! Focus your forces! 
What you are to think of, is, that for 
awhile you live on the fat of the land. 
Then after you have earned a purse 
and fine clothes by divorcing before 
witnesses, your wife — 

DERVISH (sotto voce) 
Whom I have spent such a charming 
honeymoon with — I mean, without — 

EL SABBAGH 
You go away, leaving her free to re- 
marry our friend, benefactor and pat- 
ron. What could be better? (rubbing 
his fat hands.) 

DERVISH 
What, indeed? If everyone got mar- 
ried that way, there wouldn't be any 
unhappy marriages. 

EL SABBAGH 
Of course not. 

DERVISH (as if seized with a sudden 
thought) 
But isn t it rather selfish? (anx- 
iously) To shove all those after-re- 



sponsibilities you spoke of on poor 
Amad? 

EL SABBAGH (hastily) 
He won't mind. 

DERVISH (solicitously) 
But perhaps it would be my duty to 
accept some of them — such as wiping 
away her tears — before divorcing the 
lady? 

EL SABBAGH (precipitately) 
No, no; you are too generous. 

DERVISH 
It is Amad who is generous. Look 
at the dowry he has provided for my 
bride! Can I forget that? Noble man! 
I, too, should be magnanimous. How 
(expansively) could I show my appre- 
ciation better than by sacrificing my- 
self and consenting to become a reluc- 
tant party in a real, old-fashioned 
honeymoon, instead of yielding to the 
everything-made-easy, don't-have-to- 
console-the-bride variety? 

EL SABBAGH (alarmed) 
It wouldn't do at all. 

COMPANION (horrified) 
It is very kind of you, but not to be 
thought of. 

DERVISH 
I am thinking of Amad. The lady, 
unfortunately, is young and beautiful — 

EL SABBAGH 
Oh, he's used to trouble! 

COMPANION 
All really married men are. 

DERVISH 
While only the men who get married 
the way I am supposed to, are free 
from it! They have a mother-in-law 
without having one. They pay the 
butcher, the baker, and the candle- 
stick maker, when there aren't any— 
quite preferable to not paying them 
when there are. Their wives run up 
bills, and they don't. They buy hats — 
I mean, veils — and they don't. Their 
babies howl, and they don't. They 
walk the floor with them, and they 
don't. Perhaps some other fellow 
makes love to your wife — only he 
doesn't. He kisses her and he doesn't. 
Ha, ha! He hugs her and he doesn't. 
Or if he did, he couldn't. Of if he 
could, you wouldn't care. Because 
you're jealous and you're not. 



EL SABBAGH 
My head is getting confused again. 

DERVISH 
Let her have as many lovers as a 
Roman erilpress, and still your honor 
is secure. A thousand busy bees sip- 
ping at your connubial honey, can not 
make you an injured husband. You 
are immune. Your domestic infelici- 
ties are felicities. Your quarrels are 
sweetest harmonies. In brief, it is only 
such a marriage that is made in 
heaven. The other kind — 

EL SABBAGH (to companion) 
Stop him! 

COMPANION (impressively) 
To return to our original proposi- 
tion— 

EL SABBAGH (eagerly) 
Yes; to return — (to dervish) Con- 
centrate! Focus! Don't scatter! 

DERVISH 
How old did you say the lady is? 

EL SABBAGH 

Seventeen. 

DERVISH (aside) 
About the age of the lady who gave 
me — I mean, the beggar — the purse. 
(Siglis. Aloud) And her husband, this 
Amad — how old is he? 

Am,ad appears at another window of 
house. No one on the stage sees him. 

EL SABBAGH 
He has reached an age when, ac- 
cording to the prophet, a man arrives 
at a full state of wisdom. 

DERVISH 
Oh, he is, then, in his prime? 

EL SABBAGH 
In his prime; yes, his prime. (Amad 
closes shutter of this icindoxo and 
exits.) 

DERVISH 
You are sure the lady wept to be 
taken back? 

EL SABBAGH 
She shed tears like rain. Why do 
you ask? 

DERVISH 
Otherwise, I might have compunc- 
tions. 



18 



EL SABBAGH 
You need have none. 

DERVISH 
I should be obliging both parties in 
the case? 

EL SABBAGH 
Infinitely. 

DERVISH 
I should be a benefactor? 

EL SABBAGH 
A great one. 

DERVISH 
They would both bless me? 

EL SABBAGH 
They would. 

DERVISH 
Then why should I hesitate? 

EL SABBAGH (persuasively) 
You don't. (Insinuatingly.) Stews! 
Chops! 

DERVISH 

Eh? (aside) "Needs must — " (aloud) 
We go first to the cook-shop? 

EL SABBAGH 

Yes. And then?— 

DERVISH 
To the altar. Lead on. 

He follows El SabbagJi and Com- 
panion up stage. 

(CURTAIN) 

ACT II. 

Garden and court of FatmeWs house. 
At back is barred window overlooking 
canal. One side the raised place for 
smoking. Trees in blossom. Fountain. 
Door at right leading to street. Ent- 
rance to house, left. Discovered. Fat- 
meh and caretaker's wife. 

FATMEH (feverishly) 
Your husband has gone to find him? 

CARETAKER'S WIFE. 
Yes. 

FATMEH 
He should be at the mosque before 
this time. Now that the ceremony — 
my wedding — is over, he, my new hus- 
band (mocking irony) should be at the 
mosque, to pray to become holy enough 
to see a wife he does not expect to see 



at all. (She laughs a little hysteric- 
ally.) 

CARETAKER'S WIFE (bewildered 

and alarmed) 
But why send for him, at all? If 
Amad, your first husband, should 
learn! And also that you have come 
here to — 



Go. 



FATMEH (looking at her) 



The Caretaker's Wife, showing agi- 
tation, exits. 

FATMEH (suppressed, excitement, 
ironically) 

My wedding day! A wedding where- 
in the bride does not see the groom! A 
ceremony she is not even obliged to 
attend! Married, and yet not present! 
What a farce! And yet it is as bind- 
ing as any Christian ceremony. I am 
a bride. (She laughs ironically; sits 
on edge of fountain, chin on hand.) 
Will he come? And if he does? (She 
gets up, walks restlessly ; breaks flow- 
er, crushes it.) Will he do what I 
wish? I have risked all on a chance. 
(She stops, looks around. Key is heard 
turning in door leading to street. Fat- 
vieh exits abruptly into house.) 

Enter Caretaker and Dervish, by 
door leading from the street. The Der- 
vish is now clean-shaven and in gal- 
lant attire. 

CARETAKER 
Wait here. 

DERVISH 
But why have you brought me? 

CARETAKER 
As I explained, the rent to your 
cloak — 

DERVISH (laughing) 
That stampede of camels and don- 
kies quite upset my post-nuptial pro- 
cession to the mosque. 

CARETAKER (politely) 
While you not only tore your cloak, 
but became separated from your 
friends. 

DERVISH 
Friends? Well, they'll have to get 
on without me. (Aside.) At least, I've 
carried out half of my contract by 
getting married. (Aloud) But about 
this cloak you were good enough to 



promise to mend, if I would follow 
you? — 

CARETAKER 
One moment. (Vanishes into housf.) 

DERVISH (looking after him) 
A very polite fellow! (Imitates) "Sir, 
you have torn your cloak in this stam- 
pede. If you will follow me, I will 
see it is repaired." Who but a Mo- 
hammedan would tender such cour- 
tesy? (Pause) I wonder if that was 
his only reason for bringing me here? 
Well, I'm not sorry to escape that pray- 
ing business. Fancy petitioning Allah 
for divine guidance to destow a thou- 
sand ardent kisses and a million ten- 
der caresses upon a fair and lovely 
hymeneal ghost! Better a few days 
of freedom, and then I'll go back and 
carry out the rest of the contract by 
divorcing my wife. (Repeats) "Wife?" 
Ha! ha! (pause, looking around) No 
one about. Wonder what place this 
is? Where can that fellow have gone? 
Looks as if I had dropped into a lady's 
garden. (Contemplative manner) 
Hum! An intrigue? How improper! 
A newly wedded man to spend his 
honeymoon with another man's — 
(looks toicard gate) This is no place 
for a timorous young bridegroom. Be- 
sides (sighs) if I go to the mosque 
court, I may catch another glimpse of 
the lady of the purse. Shall I ever see 
her again? (sighs) 

Enter Fatmeh fr07n house. 

DERVISH (joyful, amazed) 
The lady herself! I was just going 
to look for you. (He blurts out the 
icords. She does not seem to hear.) 
Chance and a torn cloak have, indeed, 
favored me. 

FATMEH (crossing siciftly to him) 
Chance? It was not chance. I sent 
for you. 

DERVISH (surprised) 
You did? 

FATMEH (impetuously) 
Yes; I wanted to see you, here, 
alone, where no one would disturb us. 

DERVISH 
Quite so! Delighted! (Aside) An 
intrigue! She, capable of? — Impossi- 
ble! And yet, I am here. She has sent 
for me. 

FATMEH (same tone) 
I had to see you; I couldn't rest 
until I did. 



DERVISH (aside sadly) 
So bold! 

FATMEH (passionately) 
Every fibre of my being has impelled 
me to this interview. I have been 
driven to it. I could not resist. 

DERVISH (aside) 
How attractive she must have found 
me! 

FATMEH (eoming closer) 
When I saw you that day at the 
mosque, something told me to trust 
you. To show my favor, I dropped the 
purse. It was all I had with me but I 
wanted you to have it. 

DERVISH (shaking his head, aside) 
Good Lord! Was ever such audac- 
ity! A moment ago I was hoping to 
see her. And now — (sighs, draws 
away a little) 

FATMEH (folloiving as he draws 
away) 

If you only knew how much this mo- 
ment means for me? How I have 
longed for, yet feared it! How you 
hold my happiness, my very life (im- 
passioned gesture) in your hands! 

DERVISH (aside) 
So young, and yet so experienced in 
love-making! I would not have be- 
lieved it. Her eyes had such a half- 
frightened, modest don't-you-touch-me- 
look that first time I saw her. (sighs 
again. Aloud, ivithout emotion) I am 
flattered, Madam. I suppose you are 
married? 

FATMEH (surprised) 
Yes — that is, why do you ask? 

DERVISH (aside) 
True; it is but an inconsequential 
trifle, over here. 

FATMEH (anxiously studying him) 
You don't seem pleased? 

DERVISH (false ardor) 
Pleased? Oh, yes, indeed! 

FATMEH (coldly) 
I don't believe it. 



DERVISH (more false ardor) 

How can I convince you? (Aside) 

She wants me to plunge into the role 

of ardent lover. (Aloud, monotonous, 

meehanical tone) Lady! When flrst I 



20 



saw you, it was to become a slave to 
your charms. 

FATMEH (surprised) 
What are you saying? 

DERVISH (same mechanical tone) 
Telling you how much I love you. 

FATMEH (flashing eyes) 
You think, then, I sent for you, the 
ragged dervish, to — 

DERVISH (surprised) 
Didn't you? 

FATMEH (angrily) 
How dared you infer? — 

DERVISH (lively tone) 
You don't want me, then, to make 
love to you? 

FATMEH (decisively) 
I certainly do not. 

DERVISH (joyfully) 
So glad! I mean — so sorry. No, I 
mean, I ought to make love to some- 
one, because, you see, I'm just married. 

FATMEH 
Oh? (She regards Mm contemplat- 
ively.) 

DERVISH 
Yes; I'm on my honeymoon — all by 
myself — (aside) Now that she doesn't 
want me to, I feel just like making 
love. 

FATMEH (absently) 
All by yourself? Where is your 
bride? 

DERVISH 
Oh, she's spending her honeymoon 
all by herself, too. Awfully jolly way, 
don't you know. 

FATMEH 
What is your bride like? 

DERVISH (nonchalantly) 
Don't know. 

FATMEH (quickly) 
You don't take any interest in her, 
then? You don't even wish to see 
her? 

DERVISH (real ardor) 
I am more interested in seeing you. 
I asked the custodian that day at the 
mosque who you were? 



FATMEH 
Why did you do that? 

DERVISH 

Why? (shows ardor; then stops; 

aside) No, I mustn't make love. 

(Aloud) Perhaps, I wished to find out 

where you lived, to get another purse. 



Oh! 



FATMEH (studying him) 



DERVISH (apologetically) 
You have never been half-starving. 

Fatmeh turns; suddenly comes hack. 

FATMEH 
Shall I tell you what the custodian 
did not? 

DERVISH 
You mean, who you are? 

FATMEH 
It will surprise you. 

DERVISH 
I am accustomed to shocks. 

FATMEH 
I am your wife. 



Eh? 



DERVISH (amazed,) 
What? 



FATMEH (calmly) 
Your wife! 

DERVISH 
You! (shows joy; then the irony of 
the situation occurs to him) Charmed, 
I am sure, (mournfully) 

FATMEH (icy calm) 
You don't look it. 

DERVISH (false frivolity) 
Don't I? I ought to. Now I shan't 
have to spend my honeymoon alone. 

FATMEH (stiffening) 
I beg your pardon. 

DERVISH (sudden contrition) 
I beg yours. This news has rather 
upset me. You, my wife! (more warm- 
ly) My wife. 

FATMEH (displeased) 
Is there any necessity for repeat- 
ing?— 

DERVISH 
Perhaps not. What were we saying? 
Oh, that you sent for me. Why not? 



No harm in that! A wife can surely 
send for — (stops) 

FATMEH 
My servant had expected to see you 
at the mosque, while you were pray- 
ing. He was to say words that were 
to bring you here. It seems he found 
another way. 

DERVISH 
What can I do for you? 

FATMEH 
What? — (stops. It is not easy to 
tell him, a stranger.) 

DERVISH 
Whose house is this? 

FATMEH 
My own. It belonged to my mother. 
I secretly left my stepmother's to come 
here, after we (tcith a nervous cateh) 
were married. 

DERVISH 
Your stepmother may soon discover 
your absence. And if she did, would 
she seek you here? 



FATMEH 



She might. 



DERVISH (reprovingly) 
I'm afraid you've been imprudent. 
An assignation with your own hus- 
band! 

FATMEH 
You mean, I have not been mindful 
of the risk for youF — 

DERVISH 
I didn't mean that, but since you 
speak of it, there is a risk. Mighty 
serious business, these clandestine af- 
fairs with one's own wife! Shocking 
effect on the morals of any community! 
But why did you want to see me? 

FATMEH (despairingly) 
There was no one else. It was much 
to expect, but — 

DERVISH (eoldly) 
So you dropped the purse? 

FATMEH 
Yes, yes. I anticipated asking of 
you a great favor — 

DERVISH 
To buy it? 

FATMEH 
Of course. See! (feverishly) I 
have brought gold and jewels, gems of 



much value — (holding out her hands) 
Take them! 

DERVISH 
One moment! This favor — Is it 
something your stepmother would ap- 
prove of? 

FATMEH 
No. She hates me. 

DERVISH 
Or Amad, your former husband? 

FATMEH (more fiercely) 
No! no! (bites her Up) But why do 
you not take them? (again holding out 
jewels) If there are not enough, I'll 
find more. I know you serve him. 
What did he pay you to marry me? 
How much did you charge to make me 
your bride? 

DERVISH (hollow, artificial laugh) 

I married you for — a square meal. 
(Fatmeh shrinks a little) That's — 
that's my regular price. 

FATMEH (wide-eyed) 
You mean that you? — 

DERVISH (frivolously) 
Make a business of getting married? 
Oh, yes. It's my profession. First, I 
marry and then, I divorce — 

FATMEH (quickly) 
It was about the divorce — 

DERVISH 
I've ex-wives in every community. 
Leave a trail of them behind me. 

FATMEH (resentfully) 
I think you are trying to jest. 

DERVISH 
On the contrary. I am feeling very 
serious. What is it you wish? You 
are fearful of something. You do not 
trust me. And naturally not. Who 
am I? You do not know. Yet am I 
this minute your — husband! (She 
looks at him with a certain wild defi- 
ance) If I shouldn't divorce you, you 
would be helpless to free yourself. 
(She starts) It is in my power to keep 
you — to have and to hold — 

FATMEH (eagerly) 
You would do that? 

DERVISH 
You fear I would? You have heard 
of substitute husbands, who do not 
keep to their bargain. You have won- 



22 



dered if I might prove such a one? 
(Her look chcmges to one of strange in- 
tentncss) Confess this misgiving was 
in your mind when you sent for me — 
that now 1 am married to you, I might 
refuse to divorce you? (She starts as 
if to speak.) Wait! Oh, I have been 
told how these mustahalls, substitute 
husbands, sometimes make themselves 
very disagreeable, how they have even 
fallen in love (she shrinks) for selfish 
reasons, with those they have married. 
Not that any substitute husband would 
need a selfish reason in this instance — 
(ardently. She shrinks further. He 
notices and laughs.) You need labor 
under no apprehension about me. I 
understand your anxiety, now that a 
purpose is fulfilled, to make sure you 
will be rid of an encumbrance, (touch- 
ing his breast) Believe me, I sympa- 
thize with that anxiety. Indeed, if you 
wish for it now, I will do what is to be 
done at once. And without the jewels! 
I am an honest mustahall. I refuse to 
take pay from both parties. I have my 
business ideals — my sense of profes- 
sional honor. Call in your servants! 

FATMEH (as if awakening) 
What are you going to do? 

DERVISH 
What I should do. Set you free, at 
once. Divorce — 



FATMEH 



But— 



A low, discreet knocking at gate 
leading into street is heard. Both turn 
and listen. 

DERVISH (looking from gate to 

Fatmeh) 
Someone for you. 

Caretaker comes from house. 

FATMEH (hastily to caretaker) 
Do not open it. 

Caretaker walks toward, gate. 

CARETAKER (calling out) 
Who is there? (Voice outside an- 
swers inaudibly) No; she isn't here. 

VOICE (ivithout, louder) 
But her stepmother insists — 

CARETAKER 
We, the caretakers, are here alone. 
Peace be unto you! 

VOICE (grumbling) 
And unto you! (Caretaker listens, 
then crosses to Fatmeh.) 



FATMEH (excitedly) 
He has gone? 

CARETAKER 

Yes. (enters house) 

DERVISH 
Your absence has been discovered. 
(thoughtfully) That I, also, am at 
large is probably known by this time. 
Will they look for me here? 

FATMEH (discouraged tone) 
Perhaps! (sudden feverishness) You 
must go. They would kill you. But 
first — I sent for you (swiftly) to ask 
you 7iot to do what you are expected 
to do. 

DERVISH (surprised) 
Not — divorce? 



FATMEH 



Yes. 



DERVISH 
Not set you free? 

FATMEH 
That is it. It can mean little to you. 
One wife, more or less, especially if she 
is afar, what will it matter? 

DERVISH (devouring her with his 

gaze) 
What, indeed? A dozen more or 
less, a mere bagatelle! — 

FATMEH (pleading passionately) 
You promise, then? — 

DERVISH (enthusiastically) 
I — (suddenly stops; change of tone) 
Hum! This is a great favor. 

FATMEH (anxiously) 
You think of refusing? I read it in 
your eyes. 

DERVISH (tentatively) 
Hum! 

FATMEH (pleading) 
I do not offer jewels now. I see in 
your face a great nobility of character. 

DERVISH (pretending reluctance) 
But to keep you for my wife? That 
is more than I bargained for. (aside) 
It is, indeed, (aloud) How do I know — 
(as if seized by sudden thought) Ha! 
you may expect me to — aw! — caress 
you? 



FATMEH 



No, no! 



23 



DERVISH (disappointed) 
Or, kiss you? 

F ATM EH 
Nothing of tlie kind. 

DERVISH (disappointed) 
You say tliat, but liow can I be sure? 
You are not unattractive. You may 
try to work a charm about me. (more 
enthusiastically) To force me, for ex- 
ample, (gazing at her hands) to seize 
your little hands in mine, to press my 
hungry lips to them, while breathing 
in your ear some ardent tale of pas- 
sion — 

FATMEH (indignantly) 
You wrong me. 

DERVISH (dejected) 
Do I? 

FATMEH (proudly) 
I know some artful women spread 
their meshes for men, but I am not 
that kind. You can trust me. I will 
swear, if necessary. 

DERVISH (hastily) 
No; do not swear. 

FATMEH (kneeling) 
See! I beg of you — I implore you! 
Do not cast me off. Keep me for your 
wife. Promise! 

DERVISH (carried aivay) 
I promise. You shall continue to be 
my wife. Mine! — (He goes as if to 
embrace her, but Fatmeh rises quickly 
and evades him.) 

FATMEH 
And now, good-bye. 

DERVISH 
Eh? What? Oh, of course! (starts 
as if to go.) 

FATMEH 
One moment! The gate may be 
watched even now. I will see. (Exits 
hastily into house.) 

DERVISH 
Why does she not want to be di- 
vorced? Unless? — (pause) There is 
a good chance of my getting killed. 
If I w'ere, she would be a widow. Does 
she aspire to that merry role? 

Re-enter Fatmeh hurriedly from 
house. 



FATMEH 
The street is watched. I looked 
through the balcony screen. One of 
my stepmother's servants stands near 
the gate. You could not leave without 
being seen. 

DERVISH (lively tone) 
Good! I will go at once. 

FATMEH 
No, no! Perhaps when it is night 
you may slip out! 

DERVISH (sedulously) 
But I'm not so apt to be killed, then. 

FATMEH 
Of course not. I fear I shouldn't 
have brought you here, (contritely) 
You will be forced to stay for some 
time. 

DERVISH (blithely) 
True. I am your prisoner. 

FATMEH (passing hand across brow) 

My guest. Is it your wish to be 

alone? If so, there's the divan and a 
water-pipe — 

DERVISH 
I prefer company — Yours! — 

FATMEH (wearily) 
You will not find me very entertain- 
ing. 

DERVISH 
I find you everything a husband 
could desire! (Goes toward her ar- 
dently.) 

FATMEH (hurriedly) 
I will send the servant to look after 
your wants, (starts to go) 

DERVISH 
If you go, I go. (starts toward gate) 

FATMEH (stopping) 
What do you wish? 

DERVISH (peremptorily) 
I married a woman, not a tobacco- 
pipe. Besides (laughing) I came not 
to repair to a divan, but to get a cloak 
repaired. 

FATMEH (absently) 
Let me see it. (Takes up sewing 
basket from fountain.) 

DERVISH (surprised) 
You sew? (aside) Think (handing 
cloak) of a wife knowing how, nowa- 
days! 



24 



FATMEH (abrupt dreaminess) 
I learned as a child, at a little mis- 
sion school at Beirut. 

DERVISH (with pronounced start) 
Beirut! Now I have it! 



FATMEH 



What? 



DERVISH 
Where I've seen you before! 

FATMEH (surprised) 
At the mosque court, of course. 

DERVISH 
I mean, way before that. 

FATMEH 
What are you talking about? 

DERVISH 
Tell you some other time, (aside) 
If we ever meet again! (aloud) What 
is more important now, is for me to 
know, ivhy you don't want to be legally 
separated from me? (She bends her 
face suddenly over the sewing) Of 
course, if you deem the question an 
impertinent one? — 

FATMEH (uncertainly) 
Can't we — can't we just separate as 
it is? 

DERVISH 
Certainly. Though, perhaps under 
the circumstances, I am entitled — 

FATMEH 
You are right. You are entitled to 
some explanation, no matter (bro- 
kenly) how hard it may be for me to — 

DERVISH (contritely) 
I am a brute. Just tell me it is none 
of my business. 

FATMEH 
But it is. I asked you to let me re- 
main your wife, so that — 

DERVISH (swiftly) 
That other one, my predecessor, hus- 
band number one couldn't re-marry 
you? (Her face changes.) You don't 
want to become his wife again? 

FATMEH 
I don't! I won't! 



DERVISH (quickly) 
You don't care for him any more, 
then? 



FATMEH 
Any more? I never did. It is pre- 
posterous. 

DERVISH 
But you married? — 

FATMEH (vehemently) 
He lied. It was a device. Besides, 
I have never really been his wife. 
(Dervish gives an exclamation) It is 
inconceivable, impossible. (dropping 
the cloak) He is over seventy! 

DERVISH (aside) 
Over seventy! (aside) And they told 
me — What a cheerful liar that El Sab- 
bagh is! (aloud) But why, did you 
marry me, at all, and so pave the way 
for him to re-marry? — 

FATMEH (passionately) 
It was you or someone else! It was 
my fate to have for a husband, (deris- 
ive laughter) some horrible stranger! 

DERVISH (grimly) 
Don't mind me. 

FATMEH (same tone) 
A sham, a fraud, a make-believe 
man! 

DERVISH (asid.e) 
Make-believe man! Odious word! 

FATMEH 
I had no voice, no choice. It is not 
even the girl herself who says "I will" 
at the wedding. It is the wekeel, or 
go-between who answers for her. The 
bride, during the ceremony, may be 
wringing her hands in her room above. 

DERVISH 
As you were? — 

FATMEH (passionately) 
Yes, as I was! 

DERVISH (aside) 
How very flattering to me! Some 
horrible stranger! 

FATMEH (noting his expression) 
I didn't say anything that displeased 
you? 

DERVISH 
Your explanation has been both 
lucid and truthful, (aside) A make- 
believe man! 

FATMEH (discerningly) 
I believe you are displeased! 

DERVISH (picking iip cloak) 
With your sewing? It couldn't be 
better. (Without looking at it.) 



25 



FATMEH (sedulously) 
Your silk jacket — that, too, is torn — 
at the shoulder, (as if divining she has, 
somehow, hurt his feelings) You will 
let me mend that for you, also? Please! 
(icinning accent.) 

DERVISH (aside) 
That tone would win anywhere. 
(kneels; aloud) Behold me at your 
feet (turns his shoulder toivards her. 
Fatmeh draws back the silk at the 
rent, preparing to mend. She suddenly 
gives a sligJit cry.) 

DERVISH 
Prick yourself? 

FATMEH (staring at rent) 
Your shoulder? — It is not the same 
color as — 

Caretaker enters hastily from house. 

DERVISH (seeing caretaker, xcarning- 
ly to Fatmeh) 
Hush! (rises quickly. To caretaker) 
What is it? 

CARETAKER (agitated, to Fatmeh) 
My mistress? 

FATMEH 
Yes. (She looks at him as if not 
hearing.) 

CARETAKER 
I am sorry to have to tell you, but 
Amad, your first husband, is here. 

FATMEH (half-wildly) 
Here? Where? 

CARETAKER 
At the side entrance. 

FATMEH 
Tell him to go away — to go away! 

DERVISH (putting on cloak, to care- 
taker) 
He is alone? 



Yes. 



CARETAKER 



DERVISH 
Then, admit him. 



Caretaker hesitates, looks at Fatmeh, 
then bows in assent, and exits into 
house. 

FATMEH (half -incoherently) 
I don't want to see him — I can't — I 
won't — 

Enter Amad quickly. He comes to a 
stop at sight of the girl and the der- 
vish, and gloivers from one to the 
other. 

AMAD (to Fatmeh) 
You here! And with him! Un- 
veiled! (He starts as if to seize her.) 

DERVISH (intervening) 
I wouldn't — (pleasantly) 

AMAD (to dervish) 
You — what? (gasps) 

DERVISH (same tone) 
Wouldn't if I were you. It isn't 
really quite proper (smiling) for you 
to be here, at all. As you remarked 
just now, my ivife (accenting) is un- 
veiled, and it is not customary for 
other men — 

AMAD (staring) 
Your wife! 

DERVISH (pleasantly) 
My wife! 

AMAD 
You are a scoundrel. 

DERVISH (deprecatorily) 
Oh! 

AMAD 
You have deceived me. 

DERVISH (lightly) 
No; it is you who have deceived me. 
Your men misrepresented the lady's at- 
titude in this matter. 

AMAD 
What do you mean? 

DERVISH 
She has no wish to return to you. 

AMAD (furiously) 
It's a lie. 



FATMEH 



No, no! 



DERVISH (to Fatmeh) 
I believe a husband's word is law! 
(to caretaker) Admit him. 



DERVISH 
I have the lady's word for it. 

AMAD 

She! You were not to see her. It 
was understood. 



26 



DERVISH 
Your man's misrepresentations re- 
leased me from that obligation. 

AMAD 
You are a cheat. Look what I've 
done for you. 

DERVISH (lightly) 
To serve your own dishonest pur- 
pose. 

AMAD (to Fatmeh, sternly) 
Return to the house where you be- 
long, at once. 

DERVISH (to Fatmeh, gently) 
Kindly remain where you are. (to 
Amad) Again must I warn you not 
to address my wife. 

AMAD 
You! Warn! (with a gasp) 

DERVISH 
Yes. I stand absolutely on my 
rights. The law is explicit and gives 
a man power to protect his wife from 
the impertinent importunities of an- 
other man. 

AMAD 
"Impertinent!" 

DERVISH (lightly) 
I use the word advisedly. Your 
position is indefensible, if not crim- 
inal. 

AMAD 

You talk about criminal! You whom 
I picked out of the gutter! 

DERVISH 
As inexact, as inelegant a way of 
referring to my temporary indigence! 

AMAD (bitterly) 
It is thus you repay my charity, re- 
turn my beneficence! 

DERVISH 
As I told you, your man lied to me. 
Otherwise, he would not have drawn 
me into this affair. 

AMAD 

Are you going to carry out your con- 
tract? 

DERVISH (amiably) 
I do not feel called upon to do so. 

AMAD 

You mean you will not divorce her? 



DERVISH 
I would rather be excused. 

AMAD (explosively) 
Oh, you would! I've heard of your 
kind before. Blackmailing mustahalls! 
You think yourself very handsome, no 
doubt! Handsome enough to en- 
mesh — (looks at Fatmeh) 

FATMEH (breathlessly) 
What do you mean? 

AMAD (laughing shrilly) 
She, of all persons! She, whom I 
thought — ice! 

FATMEH (looking at him with hatred 
and contempt) 
Oh! 

AMAD (brutally) 
You almost fooled me with your ves- 
tal manners. You almost made me 
think you were different from other 
women — 

DERVISH (to Amad) 
Here! Confine yourself to me. 

AMAD (sneeringly) 
You! So it was for this you wished 
such brave raiment? By the beard of 
the prophet, your wooing must have 
been a fiery one! Or the lady — 

DERVISH (more strident voice) 
Silence! — 

AMAD 
And now having played the lover, 
you will play the barterer? Well, let 
us begin. But I give warning I won't 
pay much. These stories of my wealth 
are exaggerations. I'll give half again 
the amount agreed upon. 

DERVISH (resuming light manner) 
Not enough. 

AMAD 
Six hundred pieces. 



No. 

A thousand 



DERVISH 
AMAD 



FATMEH (bewildered, aside) 
They are bargaining. Was it for 
this he admitted him, against my will? 
Oh, no, and yet — (she meets the der- 
vish's eye) 

DERVISH (same manner) 
Not enough! She's worth more. 



27 



FATMEH (coioering) 
Oh! (beginning to he convinced) Are 
all men, then alike? All! 

AMAD (repeats) 
One thousand. 



I said, 



DERVISH 
'no," before. 



AMAD (scolding) 
That is a good deal of money. Think 
not to pluck me too far! 

DERVISH 
It is not enough. Look at her! 
There's grace! There's charm! And 
ardor, too, if eyes can speak. See how 
they flash! 

AMAD (looking) 
Fifteen hundred. (Fatmeh catches 
her breath and gazes at dervish xcith 
haired.) 

DERVISH (smiling) 
Still too little! 



My honeymoon has just begun. I 
should be compensated well. You are 
a great diamond merchant; I am but a 
poor man. (slightly ivhining tone) 
Think of my feelings! How difficult 
it is to give her up! So young! So 
fair! And on my wedding day! It 
cannot be. It is too much to ask (ar- 
dently) unless (change of tone) you 
pay a high price. (Fatmeh with fas- 
cinated horror regards ^lim) My bride! 
—my beautiful bride! (slightly ivhin- 
ing tone) Shall she so soon become 
my poor, lost bride? No, no. Go 
away. Leave us. I could not bear it. 
(affects grief.) 

AMAD (surveying him) 
You're a great rascal. But I am 
weak; I must have her. Two thou- 
sand, so be it, you scoundrel of a sub- 
stitute! Never was such a sum paid 
for wife or slave before. I'll take her 
back with me. (eagerly) Two thou- 
sand; it is much, but (muttering) she 
is fair. Yes; it shall be. (starts to- 
ward Fatmeh.) 



AMAD (angrily) 
What in the devil's name is your 
price? 

DERVISH 
My price? (He gazes again at girl. 
She stands very straight noio as she 
returns his look.) It is a high one. 

AMAD (sneering) 
No doubt! 



DERVISH 
Wait! I have not yet accepted. 

AMAD (stopping) 
Not accepted. Two thousand! In 
the name of the prophet (amazed) 
what do you want for her? 

DERVISH 
Ten times your wealth and then ten 
times that. 



DERVISH (still regarding her) 
Is she not worth it? Did sultan ever 
make a fairer purchase? 

AMAD (catching the infection) 
I do not underrate her. 

DERVISH 

What eyes! What lips! She is 
straight as an arrow; a gazelle of the 
desert. 

AMAD (sneering) 
You should have been an auctioneer 
of Christian girls, not a mustahall. 

DERVISH (recklessly) 
One can combine botli occupations. 
What was the last amount? 

AMAD 
Fifteen hundred. 

DERVISH 
We are still a long ways apart. (Fat- 
meh walks aicay, to far side of stage.) 



AMAD (angrily) 
You are crazy. 

DERVISH 
It is my last price. 

AMAD 
I don't believe it. You jest, but in 
order to enhance — 

DERVISH 
Think what you will! (He laughs, 
his ardent eyes still on Fatmeh, whose 
face shows an extraordinary change) 
In these little business transactions, it 
takes two to make a bargain. You 
want to buy, but I don't want to sell. 
The law has made her my property, 
my (tenderly) goods and chattels! She 
belongs to me, and, I mean to keep 
her. 

AMAD (violently) 
Because you have fallen in love with 
her, yourself. This is your last word? 
(with vicious look) 



28 



DERVISH 
It is. 

AMAD (sneeringly to Fatmeh) ■ 
You appear reconciled? 

FATMEH 
Was he not your- choice of husband 
for me? 

DERVISH (to Amad) 
Yes; you must stand sponsor. 

FATMEH (to Amad) 
You made me marry him. 

DERViSH (to Aviad) 
That's right. And she likes your 
taste in husbands so well, she wishes 
to keep me. 



one to barter? You thought I — would 
sell — you. 

FATMEH (incoherently) 
I know not what I thought, (pause) 
Who — are you? Your shoulder is 
white, while your face is not. You 
are not of these people. You are not a 
Mohammedan. Why are you dressed 
like that? Why did you appear first 
as a dervish? And you have been to 
Mecca, too. They would kill you for 
that. For your own sake you must 
leave Damascus. 

DERVISH (lightly) 
But they can only kill me once, and 
Amad is going to attend to that, (re- 
garding her) To think of their ever 
having married you to him! 



AMAD (to Fatmeh) 
I'll tell you what you are! — what I 
think of you! — 

DERVISH (stepping quickly toward 
him) 
Better not! Better go! (change of 
tone.) 

Amad lifts arm; thinks better of the 
impulse; assumes manner of icy calm. 

AMAD (to dervish) 
I raised you from the dirt; my 
money fed and clothed you, and you 
have basely betrayed me. The time 
will come when you will regret the 
course you have chosen. 



FATMEH (fiercely) 
My stepmother deceived me; he, 
also. He, being very old, said he only 
wanted someone to look after his great 
house. He had lost his only daughter. 
Would I take her place? The wedding 
would be but a formality. I hated my 
stepmother. I was glad to leave her. 
I believed him. I would have served 
him faithfully and well. I would have 
kept the shopkeepers from cheating 
him, and I would have nursed him 
when. ill. But how did he keep his 
word? At first he treated me as a 
daughter. Then one day — (stops) 

DERVISH (aside) 
The old scoundrel! 



Amad exits into house, to leave hy 
side entrance. 

FATMEH (crossing hastily to der- 
vish) 
Don't let him go. He will bring 
back men to kill you. 

DERVISH (lightly) 
You mean, to keep him here? 

FATMEH (with agitation) 
Yes; until you leave! 

DERVISH (shaking his head) 
It wouldn't do — in your house. So 
far we've done nothing illegal that 
they can hold over you, when I'm 
gone. 

FATMEH 
You think only of me. You don't 
think of yourself. 

DERVISH (laughing) 
A few moments ago you thought I 
did. Confess you deemed me a fine 



FATMEH 
I have always carried a little dag- 
ger. I was beside myself. I believe I 
struck him, hurt him! And then he 
called the witnesses and divorced me. 
I was glad, and laughed, and laughed. 
How I laughed! But afterward he was 
sorry. And I laughed some more. I 
thought I could stay free! Later I 
learned this was impossible. But rath- 
er than marry him now, it is upon my- 
self I would turn the dagger. 

DERVISH (soothingly) 
There! there! Don't worry about 
that, (absently pats her arm) The 
law allows you only one husband at a 
time. Bluebeard can't get you now. 

FATMEH (brokenly and gratefully) 

It is so good to have someone to 
lean against. 

DERVISH (forgetting himself) 
Then why don't you? (makes as if 
to support her) 



29 



Enter caretaker's wife tcith a lamp 
ivhich she places on a stand, but does 
not light it. 

FATMEH (nervously to dervish) 
It won't be dark for some time. You 

— you must have refreshment of some 

kind before you go. 

DERVISH (lively tone) 
You mean I must eat? Good! But 
(sudden dubiousness) has a make-be- 
lieve man a right to an appetite? Does 
he possess a stum — I beg your pardon. 

FATMEH (to caretaker's wife ivho has 
been standing still and regarding 

them both anxiously) 
Bring my — my husband something 

to eat. (Woman bows her head and 

exits.) 

DERVISH (admiringly) 
How you could look after a man if 
you wanted to! Which reminds me to 
look after you, when I'm gone. (Takes 
from pocket in cloak a bit of paper and 
a pencil and writes rapidly.) In case 
Amad tries to cut any capers, take that 
to Lord Fitzgerald. Friend of mine! 
He was in Damascus a few days ago. 
Not hard to find him. He'll put the 
whole force of the British diplomatic 
service back of you, if necessary. 

FATMEH (mechanically taking paper) 
You should think of your own dan- 
ger, not — 

DERVISH (lightly) 
Would you deny me a husband's right 
to protect his wife? (Fatmeh shows 
emotion.) 

FATMEH 
You, too, are English? 

DERVISH 
No, an American. Had a little wager 
in New York with Lord Fitzgerald. 
Several Englishmen have succeeded in 
reaching Mecca. He said no American 
could do it. So I had to. 

FATMEH (irrelevantly) 
I knew an American boy once. 

DERVISH (interested) 
Did you? In the old mission town, I 
suppose? 

Woman brings in fruit, cakes, and 
silver pitcher of wine which she sets 
on table. 

FATMEH 
Yes. 



DERVISH (eating) 
What became of him? 

FATMEH (pouring wine) 
I don't know. 

DERVISH 
You didn't care? 

FATMEH 
I cared very much. 



DERVISH 



Why? 



FATMEH 
He was a very nice boy and we were 
playmates, until — 

DERVISH (stopping eating) 
He went away with his father who 
had been United States consul gen- 
eral there for many years. They left 
on a ship that carried boxes of oranges. 
One of the boxes broke and the boy 
had great sport pelting the boatmen 
below with oranges. His father, the 
consul general, later had to pay for 
those oranges. I think the boy got a 
hiding. No doubt he deserved one. 

FATMEH (enrapt) 
You! The little boy! ( wonderingly ) 
You remembered me? 

DERVISH 
It was your eyes. I puzzled over 
them ever since you threw me the 
purse. Remember how we used to 
make mud pies? Plenty of mud in 
mission towns! Now (swallowing) 
you give me real cakes! You were a 
wild dark-haired little thing. You had 
fat legs and red stockings. 



FATMEH (dreamily) 
And you remembered all 
things? 



these 



DERVISH (lighting cigarette) 
Why, we used to play at getting mar- 
ried even then. Ha! ha! How history 
repeats itself. First you were my lit- 
tle sweetheart, then my wife. All in 
fun, of course; kind of like noio — all 
pretend! If I remember rightly, I 
even used to impress a chaste and per- 
functory salute upon your sunburned 
and sometimes slightly smudgy cheek. 

FATMEH (dreamily) 
Did you? 

DERVISH 
To which you, in a spirit of wifely 
obedience would as chastely and per- 



30 



functorily respond! We had, too, our 
ups and downs, our little quarrels. 
Once you hit me with a stick — you 
didn't have a dagger then. It was a 
jolly good crack, (rubbing his head.) 

FATMEH (low voice) 
Don't! That was so long ago! 

DERVISH 
But it's just as clear! I used to 
look forward to seeing the tangled 
curls and the flashing red stockings. 
I can see them now, my little wife of 
long ago! (Fatnieh shoivs undue emo- 
tion.) 

DERVISH (surprised) 
Why — what's the matter? 

FATMEH 
Nothing — nothing. I am fooUsh — 
that is all. (turns) 



ous for one who will soon cease to be 
a gay and happy bridegroom. 

FATMEH (mechanically) 
1 will speak to the caretaker. 

DERVISH 
An old suit of his would do, or — 
The better the disguise — You under- 
stand? 

FATMEH (sudden feverishness) 
Yes, yes! They must not know you. 
Wait! (exits into house) 

DERVISH (sighs) 
To think of her being the little mis- 
sion girl! (He looks toioard window 
at back, walks to it. tries bars.) Not 
very hard to remove those bars! The 
masonry seems old. (He looks out to- 
ioard distance tchere is seen a slight 
glow.) What are they up to, off there? 
By George! — I believe — 



During this scene, the stage has been 
growing slightly darker. The woman 
now comes in and silently lights lamp 
on the brass table. The significance of 
the action is not lost on the dervish. 



Enter Fatnieh from house. 

FATMEH 
I have sent out the caretaker, 
will soon return. 



He 



DERVISH (throwing away cigarette) 
It is growing darker. 

FATMEH (who has regained in a 
measure her composure, nervously) 
Won't — won't you smoke another? 

DERVISH 
Thanks — no. (He pushes back chair 
and gets up. Change of tone.) It gets 
dark fast, once it starts. 

FATMEH (motionless as an odalisque) 
Very fast. 

DERVISH 
Any other way of leaving this house 
than by the front, or side entrance? 



DERVISH (conventionally) 
And I'll soon be off. Though (light- 
ly) if we were to play at heroics as 
well as marriage, I ought properly to 
carry you off. 

FATMEH (starting) 
But you couldn't do that. It would 
be impossible. 

DERVISH 
Quite! And if it were possible, you 
wouldn't consent, of course — 

Flourish of trumpets comes from the 
street. 

FATMEH (starting back) 
What is that? 



FATMEH 



DERVISH (listening) 
Soldiers! 



DERVISH (indicating barred window 
at back) 
That window? — 

FATMEH (dull tone) 
It overlooks the canal. But the 
water is swift and deep. You could 
not go that way. 



Martial tread and, sound of horses 
are heard. 

FATMEH (anxiously) 
But why? 

DERVISH (lightly) 
Perhaps Amad has sent the army. 



DERVISH 
Can you get me another suit of 
clothes? These are rather conspicu- 



VOICES IN THE STREET 
Down with all Christians! Intrigu- 
ing dogs! 



31 



FATMEH (apprehensively) 
You hear? What does it mean? A 
general uprising? 

DERVISH 
I've heard mutterings for some time 
in the bazaars. 



DERVISH (starting) 
One moment. I'm afraid there's 
slight obstacle. 



VOICES (receding) 
Down with all Christians! 
them! 



Burn 



FATMEH (crossing to window lohere 
glow has grown brighter) 
See! Flames! Already they have 
fired the Christian quarter. It will be 
the way it was once before. Can I 
ever forget? The streets will run red. 
And all ways out of the city will be 
guarded. Even a disguise will not 
serve. You (crossing to the dervish) 
can not get out. It would be certain 
death for you to attempt to leave. 

DERVISH (lightly) 
Perhaps it is not so bad as that. Be- 
sides, what else can I do? 

FATMEH 
You can stay here to-night. I would 
not have you slain. 

DERVISH 
You would care? 

FATMEH 
Care? Yes. (He gives an exclama- 
tion.) I mean, I would not have you 
lose your life for — on my account! (It 
is now quite dark, the stage lighted 
with lamps.) 

DERVISH 
But the proprieties? — (smiling) 
What would the world say? 

FATMEH (laughing nervously) 
Am — am I not your wife? 

DERVISH (starting) 
So you are. I was forgetting that. 
There couldn't be anything improper. 
In fact, the world would commend a 
husband who stays at home nights. 

FATMEH (coming closer) 
Then you won't go? 

DERVISH (absently looking around, 
aside) 
With one's own wife! — No chance 
for gossip! — 

FATMEH (going) 
I will have the woman make prep- 
arations. 



FATMEH 



Obstacle' 



DERVISH 
Amad! He will come back, and 
others with him. If I had a weapon 
of some kind? — But I haven't even 
a popgun or a pea-shooter. And if I 
had, it would hardly do to turn this 
house where I have been so charm- 
ingly entertained, into a block-house. 

FATMEH (dazed) 
True. Amad will come back. He 
will kill you. I have thought only of 
myself. Your blood will be on my 
head, unless? — (suddenly) I release 
you from your promise! — let you carry 
out your compact with him — 

DERVISH (amazed) 
You mean divorce you so that he? — 

FATMEH (helplessly) 
What else remains? 

DERVISH (sternly) 
You would marry him? 

FATMEH 
I didn't say that. There's a way if 
the worst comes to the worst! (She 
puts her hand in the bosom of her 
dress where is concealed dagger.) You 
will divorce me, won't you? 

Dervish looks at her, then quietly 
walks over to the window at back. He 
pulls at one of the bars.. It comes out. 
Then he pries at one of the other bars. 
Fatmeh gloomily watches him. Enter 
caretaker with bundle. 

CARETAKER (to Fatmeh) 
I found the place. 

FATMEH (dully) 
Did you? 

CARETAKER 
But I didn't go in, fearing to be seen. 
I spoke to a lad. He delivered the 
message. Afterward, the Jew came 
out. I stood near the gate. As he 
passed, he gave it (indicating bundle) 
to me. 

FATMEH 
And Amad? 

CARETAKER 
He has not returned. The city is 
given over to rioting. I came and 



32 



went quickly and did not leave the 
door unfastened you may believe. 
After I slipped in, someone tried it. 

FATMEH (gloomily) 
They will do more than that pres- 
ently. What is to be done? 

CARETAKER (looking at dervish, 

working at back) 
Let them have him. It is his life 
or — 

FATMEH 
You advise that? 

CARETAKER (doggedly) 
I care only for you. I served your 
mother. 

FATMEH 
Let no one into the house. 

CARETAKER 
Even if they start to break down 
the doors? 



FATMEH 



Even then! 



CARETAKER 
My mistress — this is foolish. This 
man (looking at dervish resentfully) 
is but a stranger. 

FATMEH 
You may leave the bundle. 

He starts to speak, bows, puts down 
bundle and exits into house. 

DERVISH (coming to her) 
You have the clothes — an old suit of 
your servant's? 

FATMEH (dully) 
Better than that. You will see. 
Though I fear they will not avail. 

DERVISH (lively tone) 
I should change at once. Which 
room ? — 

FATMEH (same tone) 
I will show you — (starts to go to- 
ward house) 

Banging is heard at the side door 
inside of house. 

FATMEH (startled) 
They have come, (louder noise) 

DERVISH (looking at bundle and 
then at window) 
I fear there'll not be time — I'll — 
(swings bundle over shoulder) Can 



change later, in some dark place. 
Good-bye! 

FATMEH 

Wait! They call the canal the 
"black death" (fearfully) It is swirl- 
ing, terrible, flows whither? I must 
not let you — 

DERVISH 

We've gone all over that, (looks at 
her) We've had a jolly sort of honey- 
moon, haven't we? 

FATMEH 
Have we? (renewed racket) 

DERVISH 
That is for a pretend one! If a pre- 
tend one is so exciting, I wonder what 
a real one would be like? 

FATMEH (distracted) 
What are you saying? 

DERVISH 
That wekeel who sang your praises 
to me before the wedding ceremony 
was a fool. No wekeel could do jus- 
tice to my bride. "Eyes like the night" 
— The night may be beautiful, but it 
has no such glamor as your beauty. 

FATMEH (same tone) 
You must not say such things now — 

DERVISH 
Why not? It's only pretend love- 
making, (laughs suddenly, boldly, 
recklessly) A kiss! Surely a man 
can give his wife a kiss in parting. 
(He reaches out, kisses her. 8he seems 
half-inclined to return his caress. Sud- 
denly there is a crash outside. He 
puts her quickly from her and rushes 
toward the window.) 

Enter Amad and others. 

QUICK CURTAIN. 



SECOND CURTAIN 

Amad and others stand, staring at 
the loindow. Fatmeh is not seen on 
the stage. 

CARETAKER (staring out of window) 
Oh, my poor mistress! 

AMAD (angrily, to all) 
Why did you not stop her? 

VOICES 
It was too late. 



33 



LIGHT OF LIFE (to AmadJ 
You should never have divorced her. 
You have ruined all. 



FATMEH 
Because you feared to take the short 
way to Lebanon, and safety? 



CARETAKER (looking out of window) 
See! He has seized her. He is with 
her. He is very strong. 

CARETAKER'S WIFE (looking out) 
Now they disappear beneath a 
house — 



LIGHT OF LIFE 

Hasten out! They may 
drowning and — 



escape 



AMAD 
Find them! They must not be suf- 
fered to leave Damascus! 

CURTAIN 



ACT III. 

The edge of a rocky pass, facing the 
desert. Right of the stage shows rocks 
and descending path. Left of the stage 
at back shows another spur of rock 
coming doion. At back, desert effect. 
Branches of palm seen at right. The 
dervish dressed as an old Aboo Zeydee, 
or romance-reciter, with ivhite beard, 
is seen descending as the curtain goes 
up. He is followed by Fatmeh, who 
wears the garb of a reciter's pupil and 
accompanist; that is, a young boy. She 
carries kanoon, or kind of zither. Her 
trim cloak comes but to her knees. 
She wears a jaunty turban. 

DERVISH 
Here we may rest. 

FATMEH 
I can well do that. (She puts down 
musical instrument.) 



Tired? 



DERVISH 



FATMEH (wearily) 
How far have we come? 

DERVISH 
A long ways from Damascus. Only 
the desert separates us from the sea. 



Only? 



FATMEH 



DERVISH 
It is the way they would look for 
us — straight west. 

FATMEH 
And we have gone south? 

DERVISH 
Yes. But rest now. It has been a 
hard life for you. A tale and song 
for a crust of black bread! 

FATMEH 
It was not the weariness. I have 
ever feared people would know — that — 

DERVISH (laughing) 
That they would recognize you for 
what you are! Do not fear. You make 
a fine-looking boy, a little effeminate, 
perhaps (eyeing her critically) but 
that will pass in this country. It is 
climatic. Lucky you thought of those 
Jewish players and dancers, near your 
house, and sent the caretaker for these 
togs. (He removes beards) Although 
I did not expect you to accompany me! 

FATMEH 

It was the sight of his face — Amad's! 
When I saw him, I knew not what I 
did. The next moment I found myself 
in the canal with you. Then we were 
swept on! — on! — in darkness — I 
thought we were lost. And afterward 
through the riotous city! — How we 
ever got through the gate I do not 
know. I trembled when the guard 
spoke to us and you answered some- 
thing about an engagement in the 
country to sing and recite at a wed- 
ding feast. 

DERVISH (reassuringly) 
All's well that ends well. 

FATMEH 
But it hasn't ended yet and I've 
only made it harder for you. I have 
held you back. Once I gave way alto- 
gether. And then, you carried me — a 
little ways — 

DERVISH (tentatively) 
I didn't mind that. But shall we try 
that song together again; rehearse for 
the morrow and any caravans we may 
meet? 



DERVISH 
We came this way, the longer, for 
a purpose. 



FATMEH 
You mean the love song that occurs 
in your tale of the Emir? 



34 



DERVISH 

Yes. 

F ATM EH 
Did I not play and sing it correctly? 

DERVISH 
Correctly, but capriciously. Not with 
the right feeling! 



FATMEH 



Oh! 



DERVISH (manner of stage manager) 
Look at the text! ^'His eyes have 
over-thrown me." So says the hero- 
ine. Imagine yourself in her place. 

FATMEH 
How shall I play it? (hands him 
kanoon) 

DERVISH (protesting) 
But it is not I who am "overthrown." 

FATMEH (gravely) 
Of course. You are not "over- 
thrown." 

DERVISH 
It is you who must feel it. (severely) 
The trouble is you have never really 
felt yourself "over-thrown"! You 
haven't ever been in love. 

FATMEH (humbly) 
I am sorry. Perhaps (ivith much hu- 
mility) you wish you had a different 
pupil? 

DERVISH 
I don't say that. Never had ro- 
mance-reciter a better accompanist! 
And as for acting you do very well. 
For example, yesterday, when you 
donned the gay side-locks of a debon- 
naire Hebrew lad! — 

FATMEH 
It is like singing and dancing on a 
volcano. 

DERVISH (sedulously) 
You are not so high-spirited as 
usual? 

FATMEH (rising ahruptly) 
I am restless, (change of manner) 
All day I have felt they were coming — 
coming closer — 

DERVISH 
Imagination! 

FATMEH (looking off, up pass) 
See! (startled) 



DERVISH (looking) 
Camels and men! 

FATMEH (feverishly) 
Let us go. 



DERVISH 



Wait. 



FATMEH 
We must hurry on. 

DERVISH 
Without seeing who they are? 

FATMEH 
They come from Damascus, I know. 

DERVISH 
You can not know that. 

FATMEH 
I fear it. (In a revulsion of feeling) 
Oh, we have been too — too happy. 

DERVISH (quickly) 
You have been that? (She does not 
answer.) 

FATMEH (throwing out her arms) 
I have lived. I have breathed. I 
have slept beneath the stars. I have 
loved them. I have been undisturbed 
by hateful people, by mean ones. I 
have been free. I have been I. 

DERVISH 
Then you did not hate me? I feared, 
after that night at the window — before 
leaving you, as I thought, forever — 
that you would hate me, for having 
dared to — 

FATMEH (as if not hearing) 
And now, to be taken back — to pris- 
on. Come! (feverishly to dervish) I 
am not tired. I could even run. 

DERVISH (who has been studying dis- 
tant camels and men) 
Where shall we go? The desert? It 
is open. 

FATMEH 
There are sand-hills. We can hide. 

DERVISH 
And die. Our water bottles are not 
yet filled. 

FATMEH 
Better die than — 

DERVISH 
I do not want you to die yet. 



35 



FATMEH (looking again towards cam- 
els and men) 
They are nearer — much nearer. And 
now I can make out their faces. I can 
see — (stops) Yes, it is Sadi, the sad- 
dler — (alarmed) 

DERVISH (coolly) 
So I perceive. 

FATMEH 
He is related to him. Amad and the 
others will come, too — later — 

DERVISH 
Perhaps. But Amad, at any rate, is 
not with this band, (looking more 
closely) 

FATMEH 
But the saddler? He hates you. 
Amad would reward him for your 
death. While as for me, he would take 
me back to — 

DERVISH 
Has Sadi ever seen your face? 

FATMEH 
Mohammedan husbands do not dis- 
play their wives, unveiled, even to their 
masculine relatives. 

DERVISH (quietly) 
Then what have we to fear? 



FATMEH 
You mean, we must wait here and 
meet them? 

DERVISH 
Yes. You fear? You have shown 
courage enough on other occasions. 

FATMEH (dismayed) 
But to appear like this! It was dif- 
ferent before strangers. 



DERVISH 
Think of him as one. 

FATMEH (loio tone) 
I can't. 

DERVISH (aside) 
She is unstrung. How can I re- 
awaken her courage? (His expression 
changes. He steps toward her sternly) 
You can't meet them like that. Do you 
want to endanger my safety? 



DERVISH (same tone) 
Do you think I shall allow myself 
to be sacrified because of your timor- 
ous shrinkings? 



Oh! 



FATMEH (straightening) 



DERVISH (sternly) 
I think a little of my life if you 
don't of yours. 

FATMEH (different tone) 
Do not fear. I won't endanger — 
your life! 

DERVISH (mock humility) 
I am sorry to have to speak thus — 

FATMEH (haughtily) 
You will not have occasion to do so 

again. 

DERVISH (aside) 
Good. (He adjusts his reciter's garb 
and assumes again the venerable 
beard.) 

Enter Sadi down pass. He calls back 
to his men. 

SADI 

Water the camels well at the pool, 
back there. (He comes down) Whom 
have we here? (The girl looks at him 
tvith reckless indifference, even a 
proud curl of the lip.) 

DERVISH (coming forward with 
stooped figure and speaking in an 

old voice) 
A tale, worthy, sir! Will you not 
pause to listen to a tale? (Sadi's men 
begin to gather about on the rocks.) 
I have a fine and varied assortment. 

SADI 
A romance-reciter and his pupil! 
(looks fixedly at Fatmeh) 

DERVISH (ivheedling tone) 
While your camels drink, will you 
not suffer yourselves to be entertained 
by us? Nothing so enlivens the monot- 
ony of a traveler's lot as a good story. 
And you should hear my boy's voice? 
As sweet as a woman's! 

FATMEH (recklessly) 
So I've often been told. 



SADI (to dervish gruffly) 
The evil one take you and 
tales! Are we children? 



your 



Yours?- 



FATMEH (starting) 



DERVISH 
But my stories are as none others. 
No other aboo has so many. All the 



36 



romances of the Sultan Ez Zahir are 
in my repertory — 

FATMEH (throwing back her head) 
Including the one of the stolen 
bride! 

SADI 
Silence! (to dervish) That's a very 
forward boy of yours. 

FATMEH (a little defiantly) 
Even a slave-boy may speak. 

DERVISH (to Fatmeh) 
Silence! (to 8adi) I trust you will 
overlook — 

SADI (abruptly) 
We are searching for two people. 
Perhaps you can give us information. 

DERVISH (politely) 
We'll do our best, worthy sir. 

SADI 

One is a young man and the other a 
girl. 

DERVISH 
Indeed? And what are they like? 

SADI 
The girl is slender and shapely. Her 
garb should be very rich. The young 
man was, also, handsomely dressed — 
in garments he stole. 

DERVISH 
And you want him, because he stole 
them? 

SADI (grimly) 
He stole more than that. He stole 
the young maiden from one of our 
richest merchants — 

DERVISH 
Can such things be! May Allah 
smite those guilty of such atrocity! 
May he restore the lost treasure to its 
rightful owner! 

SADI 
A good prayer! But we'll find them 
yet. There's a large reward offered. 
It will be to your advantage to give us 
information. 

DERVISH 
Would that I could. The maiden, 
you say, is slender and shapely. And 
her eyes — 

SADI 
About the color of your boy's. 



FATMEH (smiling) 
I've been told I have fine eyes. 

DERVISH (hastily) 
Conceited young rascal! (to Sadi) 
Hum! All women hereabouts have 
eyes of about that hue. No; we have 
not seen such a pair. 

SADI (disappointed) 
Think well. 

DERVISH 
One would surely notice particularly 
those two, if one met them. 



That 



SADI (grumbling) 
true. 



DERVISH 

Perhaps they have not come this 
way. 

SADI 

They must have. We have learned 
they did not take the road direct to 
Lebanon. So they selected this route. 
That is conclusive. Also, they would 
have to come over this pass. They 
must be hiding somewhere near. 

DERVISH 
Then you can not fail to capture 
them. I hope you will treat the scurvy 
fellow as he deserves. 

SADI (cruel smile) 
We have planned that. Desert jus- 
tice! 

FATMEH (showing for the first time, 
slight trepidation) 
What — would you do with him? 

SADI 
There's only one punishment for 
such as he — to bury him in the sand, 
up to the neck and' (laughing) leave 
the rest to the birds! 

FATMEH (showing horror in spite of 
herself) 
But that would be — 

DERVISH (hurriedly) 
A just decree! May the Compassion- 
ate One so order it! So shall run my 
prayers! Allah el Allah! (aside) And 
you, boy? Pray! 

FATMEH (mechanically) 
Allah el Allah! May the Compas- 
sionate One — (bites her lips) 

SADI (watching them, grumbling) 
Prayers are all very well, but it is 
deeds that count. 



37 



DERVISH 
Prayers may even lead to holy wars 
— the very best of deeds? But how 
comes it, this rich merchant is not 
here, with you, to aid in the search? 

SADI 
He follows. We rode on but a little 
ahead. 



only way, to appeal to your pride, to 
hurt you — yes, to hurt you — to spur 
you to do something very hard, not for 
my sake, but for yours — yours, dear! 
(more passionately) I have never told 
you — I have managed to stifle the sec- 
ret these many hours we have been 
together, but I can do so no longer. 
(seizes her in ?iis arms) I love — love — 



DERVISH 
He is near, then? 

SADI 

Not far. (Fatmeh's fingers strike a 
sharp note from one of the strings. He 
looks at her ivith sudden anger.) 

DERVISH (to Fatmeh sharply) 
Put away the instrument. (S?ie lays 
it doicnj 

SADI 
A forward pupil, that of yours, as I 
said before. 

DERVISH 
He means no impertinence. He is 
but young. I am training him. 

Sadi turns toivard path up rocky 
pass. 

DERVISH 
You ride on at once, worthy sir? 

SADI 
Soon, (to men) Come, get the camels 
ready again. (They exit. He follows 
and exits.) 

DERVISH (gayly) 
You see? It couldn't have turned 
out better. (She doesn't answer.) You 
overacted a little, but on the whole, 
you did splendidly. 

FATMEH (coldly) 
Thank you! 

DERVISH (noting her manner) 
I had to say that, what I did, about 
your not appearing afraid — 

FATMEH 
Your words were quite true. I am 
most pleased I didn't jeopardize your 
safety. 

DERVISH (regretfully) 
You don't forgive me. 

FATMEH (proudly) 
Forgive? Do I riot owe you every- 
thing? You did well to remind me. 

DERVISH (earnestly) 
Fatmeh, can you not see I was not 
thinking of myself, that it was the 



FATMEH (trying to release herself) 
No, no; you but jest, as you did at 
the casement before the canal, when 
with laughter on your lips, you seized 
me in your arms and kissed me as men 
kiss pretty serving maids. 

DERVISH 
Often have I reproached myself for 
that, but now, see, I am most earnest. 
I do not laugh. If I laughed then, it 
was because I thought fate laughed at 
me. I love you madly — 

FATMEH 
You thought me so lightly won! You 
think, now, because the law, or a farce 
of a ceremony made me your wife — 
although you never won me (the tvords 
rush from her lips) as a woman should 
be won — You think because an empty 
contract gave you certain legal rights, 
you can use them to claim my heart, 
my life, the very breath of my soul — 
(struggles to release herself) 

DERVISH (still managing to hold her) 
I think nothing of the kind, Fat- 
meh. I — 

FATMEH (hysterical laugh) 
You were given a "square meal" to 
take me. I was sold for a "square 
meal." You told me so, yourself. That 
wasn't very expensive, was it? Ha! 
ha! I should feel flattered. But if you 
think the square meal included my 
love? — (ominously) No, no! That 
(tearing herself from his arms) didn't 
go with the menu — 



DERVISH (going to her passionately) 
Fatmeh, we were both victims of un- 
toward circumstances. Forget them. 
Let me try fo win you for yourself, as 
a man would win the woman he loves. 
As — (sudden change of tone. He sees 
Sadi, ivho has just come back at top 
of path. Sadi has not caught the der- 
vish's words, but he has caught enough, 
in the relative attitudes of the two 
below, to inspire Mm with sudden new 
curiosity.) I think you are most im- 
pertinent for a lad — 



38 



FATMEH (surprised, trying to break 
away) 
Ah! 

DERVISH 
Impertinent! (aside, hastily) Seem 
to act! (raises Ms hand) 

FATMEH (shrinking, amazed) 
What?— what?— 

DERVISH 
Yes; I'll strike you again, and again, 
if you dare to be impertinent to — 

SADI (coming down, speaks coldly) 
Chastising him, are you? (Fatmeh 
sees him and shoivs surprise.) 

FATMEH 
That I was, impudent young rascal! 

SADI (slight change of expression) 
Rather good-looking for a — boy! 

DERVISH 
Don't tell him so. He's already 
spoiled. The women have run after 
him — A plague on them! — As for me, 
it's enough if he plays properly on his 
instrument and behaves himself. 



SADI (slight grin) 
So the ladies have remarked he's a 
pretty fellow? Perhaps (maliciously) 
he even has a sweetheart among them? 

FATMEH (more boldly) 
And if I have. 

DERVISH (hastily) 
He is probably no worse than most 
lads of his age. But what would you? 
Youth will ever have its pranks. 

SADI 
Where did you get him? 

DERVISH 
Near Arak. He is desert-bred. His 
father sold him to me as a child. 

SADI 
Will you sell him? 



DERVISH 



No. 



SADI 
For a large sum? 

DERVISH 
He is fairly trained. I must live. I 
could not, without him. 



SADI 
But now, you thought him poorly 
trained. 

DERVISH 
Not on that, (indicates musical in- 
strument.) 

SADI 
You are very obstinate for a poor 
romance-reciter. 

DERVISH 
A man may keep what is his. 

SADI 
True. I came back to say this run- 
away pair may have exchanged their 
fine garments for commoner ones — 
farmers' clothes, or (significantly) 
others. 

DERVISH (shaking head) 
Still am I positive we did not en- 
counter them. For not being able to 
serve you, I crave a thousand pardons. 
(bows several times.) 

SADI (cunningly) 
You do not seem such an unworthy 
fellow, (turns) 

DERVISH 
Peace be unto you! 

SADI (stopping) 
He has delicate hands for a rough 
desert boy. (Fatmeh makes as if to 
hide her hands, but does not.) 

DERVISH (indicating kanoon) 
It is a delicate instrument. The 
hands of an aboo's pupil are his stock 
in trade. 

SADI 
You have ever an answer. (Goes, 
starts to climb up rocky side, but stops. 
He takes a coin from his poket.) Al- 
though I have listened to no tale, still 
I have taken much of your time. Here, 
boy. (Fatmeh hesitates.) 

DERVISH 
Go, get it. (She walks toward Sadi. 
She even attempts a slight swagger, but 
is a little embarrassed as his gaze 
passes over her from head to foot.) 

FATMEH (reaching for coin) 
Thank you. 

SADI (reaching down) 

Here. (But instead of dropping coin 

in her hand, he seizes the turban, and 

ivith a quick motion, jerks it from her 

head. Her dark hair falls abundantly 



39 



about her shoulders.) I fancy Amad 
won't have far to look for his bride. 
(He starts back, but before he can exit, 
to return for his companions, the der- 
vish rushes up and seizes him by the 
throat. They struggle on the rocky 
edge. Sadi draws a knife. The other 
forces him to drop it by twisting his 
arm. They sway to and fro a few mo- 
ments, then both roll off the rock and 
out of sight.) 

FATMEH (wJio has started towards 
them.) 
He has fallen over. He is killed. 
(She stands as if dazed.) It is my 
fault — mine! It was through me, Sadi 
saw, and guessed. (She gazes once 
more fearfully back. The dervish 
quickly reappears above rock and 
springs to the stage. She gives a glad 
exclamation.) Then you? — 

DERVISH (cheerfully) 
Hardly a scratch! He was beneath 
and struck his head on the rock. He 
will be unconscious for some time. 



FATMEH 



I feared- 



DERVISH 
Fatmeh! (Goes to take her in his 
arins again.) 

FATMEH 
No, no! (looks off) 

DERVISH 
True. The others — 

FATMEH 
What shall we do? 



DERVISH 
We'll hope to be far away before he 
comes. 

FATMEH 
You but try to deceive me. Your 
gayety is false. You know (fatalist- 
ically) they will catch us — two on one 
beast. 

DERVISH 
Well, we haven't two camels. 

FATMEH 
You could leave me. 

DERVISH (lightly) 
So I could. 

FATMEH 
They won't kill me. 

DERVISH 



Only you! 



FATMEH 



DERVISH 
Wait here while I see about the 
camel. (He exits up pass.) 

FATMEH (sitting miserably on rock) 
Sadi's men will come back to see 
what has become of their leader. They 
will find him down there and then? — 
He will recover and speak unless? — 
(She peers over rock.) He is uncon- 
scious. I could prevent his ever tell- 
ing who we are. (takes out dagger) 
No; I couldn't do that. (Replaces dag- 
ger, looks off, suddenly starts vio- 
lently.) 



DERVISH 
What will they do? (looks off) Why, 
they're leaving. 

FATMEH (joyfully) 
Leaving? 



Dervish re-enters hastily. 

FATMEH (rushing to him) 
Amad! — He is coming. He has 
many followers. He will be here in 
a few moments. 



DERVISH 
Yes. Evidently Sadi told them to 
ride on. 



DERVISH 
Yes; the foremost of his men are 
already at the pool. 



FATMEH 

They are going down the other spur. 

DERVISH (gayly) 
While we have his camel. It should 
be there at the pool. 

FATMEH (doubtfully) 
But to force it to carry double? — 
You remember his words, about Amad 
following?— 



FATMEH 
We can do nothing! You are lost — 
That dreadful fate Sadi spoke of— 

DERVISH 
There are worse things than death. 
(looks at her) 

FATMEH 
There is no hope? (He does not an- 
swer.) We can, at least, die together. 



40 



See! I do not fear. You shall strike 
the blow. 

DERVISH 

No, no! 

FATMEH 

Would you let me go into slavery — 
worse? — Amad — He and Light of Life 
will have no pity on me now. He 
thinks me bold — shameless — You know 
what is the lot of even a respected 
woman in this land. What would be 
mine now? I can not go back to Da- 
mascus, to become his plaything — not 
even that probably for long! Now 
that he thinks what he does of me, 
he would soon cast me aside. I'm just 
showing you a condition. It has hap- 
pened to other women who have lost 
the respect of their husbands. They 
are passed from hand to hand. Think 
of that! Of course I must die. You — 
realize that, don't you? You — you are 
my husband — at least, in name — (ivild 
little laugh) You would not have me 
go back to him, or be taken by him? 
You must have me remain your true 
wife, for I would have been that to 
you some time, if you had wanted 
me — 



DERVISH 



Fatmeh! 



FATMEH 
Yes — yes — I can tell you now. I do 
love you. I loved the little boy. I 
cried when he went away. (He takes 
her in his arms.) I thought my little 
heart was broken when he sailed out 
of the harbor. But he came back and 
I learned to love him all over again — 
only more — So now I've told you, and 
when you die, I must — It is hard to 
strike the blow myself. Think if my 
hand should falter! I don't believe it 
would — but any woman is a little weak. 
What if I should be? It is inconceiv- 
able, but that is just what sometimes 
happens. It is such a strange world, 
and we are all so very mortal! — so full 
of mortal weaknesses! — Make sure, 
then. I wouldn't fear death from you. 

DERVISH (brokenly) 
We will see — we will, see — (disen- 
gages himself and looks off) Yes, they 
are coming nearer — (hard laugh) He 
rides on a great camel, with gorgeous 
trappings, like a sultan. There are 
many of them — Two score — (clenches 
hands) What a helpless thing I have 
become! (again looks off) Nearer! 

FATMEH 
You have done all any man could do. 
It is I who am the cause of all this 



misfortune to — to my little boy. (Her 
voice breaks.) That sounds so — so 
funny! You're so big now. I — I be- 
lieve I don't know what I'm saying. 
(He takes her in his arms again.) How 
— how ridiculous we can't be happy. It 
is my fault — Why, if I weren't here, 
you could face him; he would not know 
you. But he would recognize — unless? 
—unless? — (She withdraws slowly 
from his embrace) 



DERVISH 



Unless? 



FATMEH 
That absurd part I sometimes take 
of the Jewish boy? — You spoke of it 
not long ago. (She takes out bag.) 
These absurd side-locks! (She takes 
out exaggerated side-locks from bag.) 
The wayside country people — I de- 
ceived them — (more feverishly) Per- 
haps I could him. I can try. It will 
be fighting for your life, as well as 
mine. It is a chance, (adjusts locks) 
Don't I look funny! (takes out tiny 
mustache) He may not know me. 

DERVISH 
He may not. (His tone expresses 
doubt.) 

FATMEH 
He is of the old school of Moham- 
medans. He hates Jews and Christians 
alike. He always used to turn his 
head and spit, when he met a Jew in 
the Street that ia Called Straight. 
When he sees the side-curls, he will 
not glance at my face. Besides, it — 
(indica tes moustach e) 

DERVISH (optomistic tone) 
You are right. I believe you can do 
it. (They both laugh, exaggeratedly, 
then she cries a little. He takes her in 
his arms and laughs) 1 shouldn't 
know you, for you. 

FATMEH (hysterically) 
Kiss me. (He does so. Fatmeh then 
releases herself sioiftly, wipes her eyes, 
throws back her head, then strikes a 
few wild measures on the musical in- 
strument.) 

Enter Amad on a large camel, with 
gorgeous trappings. He is followed by 
many men who have left their camels 
at the pool. 

AMAD 
We may rest here awhile. A curse 
to this mad chase! (T?ie camel kneels) 
I have wasted much valuable time in 



seeking to administer justice on this 
scoundrel and his light of love! (Fat- 
mch, icho sits ivith Jiand to cheek, half- 
concealing her profile from him, 
winces.) 

ONE OF THE MEN 
Do not fear. We shall soon have 
them back. (Men begin to arrange 
rugs.) 

ANOTHER MAN 
It won't be long before the lost pearl 
is restored to our illustrious patron. 

AM AD (harsh laugh) 
Pearl? Not a very white one! (Fat- 
meh shivers slightly) Some of its lus- 
tre gone! Never mind; I want her 
back. It may be for love, or who shall 
say? The prophet does not forbid 
punishment for wives who are wan- 
tons. (Fatmeh starts more violently.) 
She refused my kisses once — mine! 

ONE OR TWO MEN (ivondering) 
Yours? The great diamond mer- 
chant? 

AMAD (sitting on cushions on great 
rug that is spread for him) 
My disgrace is public property. Why 
should I not speak? All Damascus 
knows. Perhaps even now do the ro- 
mance-reciters, like yonder one, intone 
the story to the gaping crowd collected 
on some street corner? (looks toward 
Fatmeh) A Jewish boy! (shows dis. 
taste and turns his head. To dervish) 
Are players on the kanoon so scarce 
you must take one of those people? 

DERVISH (approaching and bending 
very low) 
It is even so. (He remains in kneel- 
ing position before Amad.) Besides, 
he has an unusual talent. 

AMAD (abruptly) 
Some men passed this way? 

DERVISH 
They did. (posturing low) 

AMAD 

Their leader questioned you? 

DERVISH 
Yes, but unfortunately I had no in- 
formation to give him. 

AMAD 
Their leader went on? 

S^adi's head, in a bright light, appears 
slowly above the top of the rock at 



back. He is climbing up, evidently 
with great difficulty and is very weak. 
His appearance of panting shows he 
can not call out. He clings for a mo- 
ment with an effort, but can not sus- 
tain himself. Fatmeh alone sees him. 
Her face shows terror. Her fingers 
tremble violently above the musical 
instrument. As he falls her expression 
changes to one of relief. The dervish, 
with head bent low before Amad, does 
not see Sadi. 

DERVISH (answering Amad) 
He did. 

One of the men brings coffee pot in 
vessel of brass containing charcoal and 
sets this near Amad. Others bring 
brass tisht (pitcher) and ibreek (bowl). 
He washes his hands. Others place 
kursee and seeneeyeh (low table and 
brass tray) before him. Dates, fruit 
and bread are placed on this. Amad 
eats. 

DERVISH 
Is it your pleasure we go? Or do 
you command our poor services? 

AMAD 
Your boy sings? 

DERVISH (hastily) 
Were not a tale from me better? 

AMAD (angrily) 
You bandy words. Does he know 
"The Vergeance of the Emir?" It is 
a good poem with many songs and has 
been approved from time immemorial 
by pious men and injured husbands, 
with bad women for wives. (Fatmeh 
bites her lips. She restrains herself 
with difficulty. The dervish bends his 
head lower. One of his hands, it can 
be seen, is clenched.) It is a lesson to 
such — women of no morals — women of 
loose character — 

FATMEH 
Oh! (Her trembling fingers strike 
the strings.) It comes to me. (She be- 
gins to play distractedly.) I — I will 
sing and play it — 

AMAD (interrupting) 
Never mind the first part. (Without 
looking directly at Fatmeh and ad- 
dressing the dervish.) Have your boy 
come at once to the song of the mem- 
lock and where the Emir of the tribe 
of Benee-Hilal, returning unexpectedly 
to his home, surprises the young slave 
with his wife. Have him tell of the 
rage of this great Emir, a man of 



42 



eighty righteous years, dishonored by 
his bride of fifteen. Tell, also, how 
he killed the one and punished the 
other. But if he does not tell it well, 
(fiercely) I'll have the boy beaten as 
he had her— the shoulders stripped and 
the lash laid on. Oh, it was excellently 
done! He was a great and just man. 

DERVISH (repeating) 
A great and just man! (bows more 
servilely. His eyes swing to Fatmeh.) 
Sing, boy; sing of this virtuous deed. 
Is it your wish (to Amad) he should 
draw nearer? 

AMAD (spitting contemptuously) 
Not he! We listen to Jews, but it 

is not meet they should come too close. 

Begin! (without looking at Fatmeh.) 

Fatmeh rises; tries to play, hut for 
the moment, does not seem to be able 
to. 

DERVISH (harshly, concealing great 
anxiety) 

Well, have you forgotten? Will you 
endanger your shoulders and mine, 
too? 

FATMEH 

Forget? No; how could I forget 
such a tale? The just vengeance of 
this great man — this good man, like 
Mohammed for piety!— fAmrtrt nods 
approvingly) How could I forget the 
foul injury wrought on this venerable 
kind man of eighty by his faithless 
wife — this loose one — this wanton — 
(checks icild laugh.) This is the song 
of the young memlock beneath her 
window — You, venerable, just and 
much injured sir (to Amad) wish me 
to come to that? (Amad nods assent- 
ingly without looking at her.) 

FatmeWs fingers sweep wildly over 
the strings. She sings with great fer- 
vor and passion an Arabic love song. 
Amad listens; his face shows conflict- 
ing emotions; his fingers twitch. Fat- 
meh now seems to have thrown dis- 
cretion to the winds. She is acting 
with reckless freedom. 

FATMEH (at conclusion of song) 
All this the Emir heard. He saw the 
young slave creep to his wife's win- 
dow—He saw him climb up— and 
enter — 

SadVs head reappears at the top of 
the rock. His expression now is more 
assured, his face savagely exultant. 
Fatmeh sees him; halts in her tale. 



AMAD (as if sivept on by the recital) 
He saw the foul fellow take his 
young wife in his arms; he saw him 
kiss her; he saw her return his ca- 
resses. This — all this, he noted — 

FATMEH (moving toward back) 
All he noted — 

AMAD 
He knew, then, all women were one 
in lewdness — all the same — 

FATMEH (uHldly) 
All the same — 

AMAD 
So, drawing his dagger — 

FATMEH 
His dagger — (draws hers) 

AMAD 
He suddenly sprang forward — 

FATMEH 
Sprang forward — 

She suddenly springs back. Her 
hand loith the dagger descends once, 
twice on Sadi. Dervish, alone watching 
her, sees. The others are looking at 
Amad. Sadi releases his hold, falls. 
The dervish utters a cry to drown 
sound of Sadi's voice. 

AMAD (starting) 
What was that? 

DERVISH 
I but called out — Your acting was 
so real. 

AMAD (staring at Fatmeh, or rather, 
at the dagger she holds) 
The boy's dagger — it is red — 

DERVISH 
It is your mind that sees red — not 
the eye. 

AMAD (muttering) 
True, (sinks back) 

Fatmeh thrusts dagger in her dress. 
She sways, holds herself ivith difficulty. 
Dervish looks at her lOith great anx- 
iety. 

DERVISH 
Is it your wish to hear the rest of 
the poem and the songs? 

AMAD (muttering) 
No, no! (rising) I am ready. The 
camels are watered. A curse to wait- 



43 



ing! Red! I can only see red. It is 
in the mind as tliat reciter said. The 
heart's blood of the foul ravager! The 
blood that drips from the shoulders 
of the wanton! Let us be off! We 
shall soon find them. And when I do! 
— when I do! — Bring my camel to the 
edge of the desert. Be off— off— (He 
exits to the left.) 

The men gather up the traps from 
the stage and exit. Dervish waits, lis. 
tens, toatches. He looks at Fatmeh but 
does not dare speak yet. She stands 
swaying, a queer little smile on her 
lips. 

DERVISH (cautiously, after pause) 
Fatmeh! (She comes toicard him. 
About to fall, he takes her in his arms.) 
Fatmeh! 

FATMEH (recovering, hysterically) 
It is nothing — nothing — How could 
I do it? (horrified tone) See — see if he 
is dead. 

DERVISH 
What matter? It was bravely done 
— bravely! — my beautiful one. A blow 
for your life. It was splendid — 

FATMEH (same tone) 
It was horrible. See! see. I dare 
not look. 

She sinks near a rock. He goes and 
looks over to Sadi beloiv. 

DERVISH 
He is still breathing. 

FATMEH 
I am glad of that, (hysterically) Go! 
go! Bind his wound. 



DERVISH 



What? 



FATMEH 
Quick! quick! I would do it, but I 
am weak. I would not have him die. 

DERVISH 
Better so — for your sake! He de- 
serves his fate. 

FATMEH 
Never shall I forget his eyes when I 
struck. Poor fellow! 

DERVISH (admiringly) 
My wife is an angel. 

FATMEH (mournfully) 
A moment ago I did not feel like 
one. I shudder at myself. But go! 
go! Do this for me. 



DERVISH 
As you will! (exits over rock at 
back) 

Fatmeh leans back as if slightly 
overcome. She has removed the side- 
locks and tiny mustache. A strange 
light appears and vanishes on the hori- 
zon. A very distant sand column is 
shown at back, crossing the desert. It 
is folloived by another. A third springs 
up, but vanishes. 

FATMEH (watching) 
The zoba'ah! Pillar of sand! The 
genii ride upoii them. It is an evil 
omen. (Instinctively she murmurs a 
charm.) Allahu akbar! Allahu! (Dis- 
tant sound of motor car is heard.) 
What is that? What a strange sound! 
(.She rises and goi*^ tip stage.) And 
what a strange object! How quickly 
it comes! And there are neither asses, 
nor camels attached to it. 

Dervish hastily springs on to stage 
from back. 

DERVISH 
A motor car! Yes, no doubt! (joy- 
ously) Some car after a record! 



FATMEH 



What is it? 



DERVISH 
Haven't you ever seen one of those 
things? 



No. 



FATMEH 



DERVISH 
That's because you were brought up 
in Damascus. 

FATMEH 
It moves, but there's nothing to move 



DERVISH 
Oh, yes there is. 

FATMEH (puzzled) 
I don't see anything. 

DERVISH 
You don't see gasoline. You only 
smell it. 

FATMEH 
What's it doing here? 

DERVISH 
The car? Might be a machine after 
a record for the manufacturer. If so, 



44 



two montlis from now you'll see that 
car displayed In a show window on 
Broadway, with a picture of the desert 
and an oasis in the background. 

FATMEH 
What is Broadway? 

DERVISH 
Well, it's not so thirsty a place as 
the desert, (watching) By Jove! 

FATMEH 
What is it? 

DERVISH (lively tone) 
It floats the Union Jack. A private 
car of some enterprising pathfinder 
and — (car very close) Yes, it is — (tJie 
car stops, the front part of it shoiving 
at entrance at left, toward back. Lord 
Fitzgerald is on front seat, at steering 
wheel, monocle in his eye.) 

LORD FITZGERALD (to native serv- 
ant on back seat, not seen by 
audience) 
Get out a bottle of cold Cliquot. 

DERVISH (going toward Fitzgerald) 
Fitzgerald! Lord Fitzgerald! 

FITZGERALD (cocking monocle in 
his direction) 
Eh? What? 

DERVISH 
Heard you were contemplating a 
trip across the African cannibal belt, 
my lord? Did you abandon it because 
a German got in ahead of you, and 
come here instead? 

FITZGERALD (recognizing him) 
Jack Carruthers! The young Amer- 
ican I made the wager with, by Jove! 
(gets out of car.) 



FITZGERALD 
Why not? 

DERVISH (same tone) 
Girl. 

FITZGERALD (surprised) 
Eh? (Monocle drops from eye.) Oh, 
you gay — 

DERVISH (quickly) 
My wife! 

FITZGERALD (more surprised) 
Eh? 

DERVISH 
Fact! (aside) No need of telling him 
she is only my make-believe wife, at 
present. 

FITZGERALD 
Congratulate you. Thought her too 
handsome for a boy. Too — aw! — That 
is, graceful, and — 

DERVISH 
Never mind. 

FITZGERALD 
Quite so. How did you win her? 

DERVISH 
She was won for me. 

FITZGERALD 
You Americans are always time-sav- 
ers. Honeymoon now? 



DERVISH 
Something like that. 



FITZGERALD 
Where did you come from? 



DERVISH 



Damascus. 



They shake hands. Fatmeh draws 
somewhat apart, as if slightly con- 
strained by her costume, in the pres- 
ence of a white man and one who is a 
friend of the dervish. 

FITZGERALD 
And so you got to Mecca? (dervish 
nods) I congratulate you, though 
(laughing) it will cost me a pretty 
penny if you get out of this country 
undetected. I suppose that's why you 
are wearing those togs. And your 
companion? (regarding Fatmeh) 

DERVISH (loiv tone) 
Do not stare too hard. 



FITZGERALD (laughinQ) 
Oh, I say— Delightful! What an 
original fellow! (looking from, one to 
the other) You've been wandering 
through the real, genuine, only bona 
fide Garden of Eden. Fancy planning 
that for a wedding trip! 

DERVISH 
We didn't plan it. It was planned 
for us. (goes back of stage, looks anx- 
iously off, and returns) Fatmeh, this 
is Lord Fitzgerald, of whom you have 
heard me speak! (Fatmeh approaches 
very shyly.) He tells me we have been 
wandering through the Garden of 
Eden. 



45 



FITZGERALD feffusivehj) 
Precise locality! Watered by the 
two identical Biblical rivers! Lucky 
couple! What an experience! To bask 
amid the ambrosial odors that de- 
lighted the senses of the first pair of 
lovers! To bathe in the pool where 
the beautiful prototype of all lovely 
femininity laved her fair limbs. 



DERVISH 
Something like that. Where are you 
going? 



FITZGERALD 



Coast. 



DERVISH 
have a favor to ask. 



DERVISH (aside to Fitzgerald) 
Not too much of that! 



FITZGERALD 

After breakfast! 



FITZGERALD 

To lie on the mosses where the first 
suitor whispered the universal story in 
the not unwilling ear of the first vot- 
ary of love! To listen to the birds 
in the foliage-embowered nook where 
the original groom sipped the nectars 
of delight from the dewy lips of the 
first sweet blushing bride of all man- 
kind! 

FATMEH 
What does he mean? (goes up stage 
and looks anxiously off.) 

FITZGERALD 
My boy, you are to be congratulated. 
And now if you and your bride will 
join me in a little wedding breakfast. 
We can have a cold bottle and a bird. 
And (prodigious icink) a little fruit — 

DERVISH (absently) 
Thanks, but— 



DERVISH 
Now. There will be no breakfast for 
us. I must even ask you to postpone 
your own breakfast. 

FITZGERALD (protesting) 
But I'm a man of regular hapits. My 
liver demands — 



DERVISH 

The favor is not for myself. The 
written conditions of our wager pro- 
vide that I must make the trip to Mecca 
and return without asking the assist- 
ance of any consul or white man. 

FITZGERALD (promptly) 
Waive the condition! 

DERVISH 
Generous of you, but I can't accept. 
I can, however, and do, ask a favor 
for my — my wife! 



FITZGERALD (another icink) 
Fruit! Apples! 

FATMEH (who has looked over rock, 
cones down suddenly) 
He's gone — 

FITZGERALD 
Who? The serpent? 

DERVISH 

Impossible! 

FATMEH 
He isn't there. He's crawled away 
somewhere — But he can't be far — 

DERVISH 
What matter? He can't harm us 
now. 

Fatmeh goes up stage quickly. 

FITZGERALD (staring) 
What is this? An intruder in para- 
dise? An interloper in your Eden? 



FITZGERALD (promptly) 
Ask it. 

DERVISH 
Take her with you to the coast. 



FITZGERALD 



Eh? 



DERVISH 
I'm expecting arrivals. 



Arabs? 



FITZGERALD 



DERVISH (nods) 



After us! 

FITZGERALD (looking at Fatmeh) 
Elopement? 

DERVISH 
Something like that. 



Serious? 



FITZGERALD 



46 



DERVISH 
Rather! The man at the head of 
those fellows — 

FITZGERALD 
With the white beard, fierce, gorge- 
ously attired chap on a big camel? 

DERVISH 
Amad! How do you know? 

FITZGERALD 
Passed him out there in the desert. 
He had stopped to talk with another 
band of men he had overtaken. 

DERVISH 
Then they will soon be back here to 
find out what has become of Sadi. You 
will take her? 

FITZGERALD 
Yes; but you? — 

DERVISH 
I've got a camel in there, near the 
pool. I want to save that ten thou- 
sand pounds for her. She hasn't a 
cent — not a piaster. I risked my entire 
fortune on that wager of ours. 

FITZGERALD (staring) 
You did? I thought all Americans 
were millionaires. 



DERVISH (more sternly) 
Fatmeh! — it is my will — I order you 



to- 



FATMEH (calmly) 
I refuse to obey. I absolutely won't 
go in the car without you. 

FITZGERALD (to dervish) 
Better yield gracefully. 

DERVISH 
I do. (sadly) I'm afraid my wife 
won't have much to live on. 

FATMEH (throwing herself in his 

arms) 
I only want you. We must never be 
separated now. If you die, I die. We 
Greeks are like that, (proudly) We 
don't give our hearts lightly. But when 
we do? — (gazes passionately into his 
eyes. Then closes her own ivith a sigh 
of happiness. She remains thus a mo- 
ment passively. Dervish looking down 
on her.) 

FITGZERALD (patiently) 
1 don't want to interrupt, but did 
you say something about expecting vis- 
itors? 

FATMEH (tearing herself aivay) 
We must go. (crossing to car) 



DERVISH 
Not this one! 

FATMEH (coming doion) 
I think they are returning. 

DERVISH (to Fatmeh) 
Lord Fitzgerald has tendered us the 
use of his car. He will take you away. 
They can never catch you. I will fol- 
low on Sadi's camel. 

FATMEH (dismayed) 
Why don't you go in the car, too? 

DERVISH 
Circumstances prevent. 

FATMEH (calmly) 
I won't go in it, then, either. 

DERVISH 
But if I say you must? — A husband 
has the right to command — 



FATMEH 
His wife to desert him? No. 
cidedly) 



FITZGERALD (gallantly) 
Will you not ride in front with the 
driver? 

FATMEH 
Yes, yes. If you wish, or I could 
ride behind with — (looks at dervish) 



FITZGERALD 
Madam, I claim my right, 
ways an owner's privilege — 



It is al- 



(de- 



FATMEH (gayly) 
Oh, well! (gets in) You're sure it 
can go twice as fast as camels? 

FITZGERALD 
Three times as fast. (At back of 
stage another sand colutnn is seen 
crossing the desert.) Looks as if it 
might storm! Won't interfere with 
us. Can close the car as tight as a 
drum, (to servant) Crank up! (Ser- 
vant obeys, then gets in behind. Der- 
vish closes door after Fatmeh. Effect 
of heat lightning. Sound of camels is 
heard.) 



47 



FATMEH (nervously to dervish) 
Why don't you get in? They will be 
here in a moment. 

DERVISH 
All right, (springs toward back) 

FATMEH 
Quick, or — (ticreams as Sadi sud- 
denly rushes on from side and seizes 
dervish, throwing him back from car. 
At the same time the machine starts. 
Dervish tries to release himself from 
Sadi to regain car, but Sadi clings like 
a loild cat. Sound of voices and camels 
much nearer.) 

FITZGERALD (about to spring out, to 
dervish) 
Shall I?— 

DERVISH (breathlessly) 
You would only be taken. Leave me! 

FATMEH 

No, no! (rises) 

DERVISH (struggling tcith Sadi) 
Full speed ahead! It is the only 
way. 

FATMEH 
Let me — (starts frantically to get 
out) 

DERVISH (to Fitzgerald) 
It will be too late. Save her. 

Fitzgerald puts on speed suddenly. 
The motion throws Fatmeh back. She 
again tries to get out. Fitzgerald re- 
strains her. Motor exits. Dervish 
hurls Sadi to far side of stage, and 
rushes up pass for the camel of Sadi, 
as Amad and his men enter from other 
side of stage. 

CURTAIN 

Second Picture. Dervish is seen 
crossing at back on camel. Amad and 
others start in pursuit. Storm effect. 
One of the sand columns rushes across 
the stage. Palm over-reaching from 
rock, falls with a crash. 

CURTAIN 

Third Picture. A barren waste of 
desert. Not a sign of life. 

SLOW CURTAIN 



ACT IV 

Three months later. Interior, upper 
sitting-room of house in Syrian town 
on the Mediterranean. Balcony over- 
looking an orange grove and the dis- 
tant sea. Fatmeh and Lord Fitzgerald 
discovered. Fatmeh is dressed in fash- 
ionable Paris gown. 

FATMEH 
No word of him? 

FITZGERALD 
I am sorry. 

FATMEH (dejected) 
It begins to look— That awful sand 
storm! He must have perished in it. 

FITZGERALD 

We must not lose courage. 

FATMEH 
Have I? Do I not go down every 
day, with new hope, among the camel 
men, returning from the desert? And 
always is it not the same reply? "We 
have not come across any Aboo Zeydee, 
or romance-reciter. We have not heard 
any news of him." Not even heard! 
(despairingly) Surely someone would 
have heard, unless — 

FITZGERALD (soothingly) 
Not necessarily! He may be mak- 
ing his way to some other place on the 
coast. He may have changed his 
course, gone to Bagdad to work down 
to a seaport on the Persian gulf. 

FATMEH (shaking her head) 
I'm sure he would try to come here. 
Why (despairingly) did you force me 
to stay in the car? 

FITZGERALD 
It was his command, (gently) He 
did what he thought was best to serve, 
to save you — 

FATMEH (brokenly) 
He always did that. 

FITZGERALD 

He may come yet. There are scores 
of reasons why he may be delayed. 

Amad appears at door; stands un- 
seen by them. 

FATMEH 
I pray it may not be the one great 
reason, (draws breath) 

FITZGERALD 
Nonsense! (sees Amad tvho has sud- 
denly stepped forward) Eh? (Fatmeh 



48 



sees Mm, also, and gives a startled ex- 
clamation) 

FITZGERALD (to Fatmeh) 
Do you permit these — aw! — people 
to come into your presence without be- 
ing announced? 

FATMEH 
I — it is — (Her look tells Fitzgerald 
who Amad is) 

FITZGERALD 
Not? — (aside) That old scoundrel of 
a first husband! 

AMAD (tranquilly) 
I did not have myself announced, be- 
cause I feared this lady (impersonal 
gesture) might be averse to receiving 
me. 

FITZGERALD (dryhj) 
At least, you are frank. 

AMAD (coolly) 
May I ask what it is to you, 
whether — 

FITZGERALD 
I am a friend of this lady and, also, 
of her husband. 

AMAD 
Ah, you are the Britisher who had 
the devil car. (calmly) I, too, am a 
friend of her husband. 



FATMEH 



You! You! 



FITZGERALD 
Ah, yes. A jest! Rather a poor one. 

AMAD 

It is no jest. At least, I am not his 
enemy. 

FATMEH (disconnectedly) 
What trick is this? What have you 
come to tell me? What do you ex- 
pect? You were drawing near the 
spot in the desert, where he was left 
alone, by me, against my will — 

FITZGERALD (to her) 
There! there! 

FATMEH 
You found him. You! — (acctisingly) 
Oh, I'm not afraid of you now. Let 
me know, at once, even the worst — 
Where is he? 

AMAD (coldly) 
I don't know. 



FATMEH 
But you wanted to — 

AMAD (calmly) 
Kill him? Oh, yes. I was sorry I 
didn't. But the will of Allah (resign- 
edly) was against it. 

FATMEH 
The will of Allah? — (Her eyes search 
his) You have never told me anything 
but lies — lies. How can I believe you 
now? 

AMAD (impervious to emotion) 
That is not for me to say. I speak 
the truth. I didn't kill him. I didn't 
have the chance. Allah said "No," 
even at the moment when I aimed a 
pistol at him. I had overtaken him in 
the desert. I thought I had his life in 
the palm of my hand. Joy filled my 
soul. But the Compassionate One de- 
prived me of the full fruition of my 
pleasure by causing sand to be blown 
into my eyes. What followed? Never 
was such a storm. Pillars of sand 
with the genii astride them! Howling; 
shouting; shrieking! Men and camels 
were buried. Ten thousand demons 
exulted over another unmarked grave- 
yard of the desert. 

FATMEH (hardly able to speak) 
But you — escaped? 

AMAD (calmly) 
Allah spared me for a life of further 
usefulness. 

FITZGERALD (noticing Fatmeh tries 
to ask a question but is not able to, 

at once) 
And this lady's companion, the 

American? 

AMAD 
He escaped the storm, too. 

FATMEH (joyfully) 
He escaped? It is true, then? 

AMAD (steadily) 
It is true. 

FATMEH (looking at him. Slowly) 
He speaks the truth. 

AMAD 
The ways of Allah are inscrutable. 
He employs even our enemies for our 
servants. Blessed be the name of 
Allah. (He postures once or twice.) 

FITZGERALD 
You mean he served you? How? 



49 



AMAD 
He, alone, managed to extricate him- 
self from the sands after the storm. 
He saw a flutter of my turban and 
divined what lay beneath. Casting 
off the sand, he worked over me and 
gave me to drink when already was 
my soul trembling in the balance and 
consciousness had gone. He brought 
back the life that like a leaf before the 
breeze was fleeting away. The birds 
on high waited and waited. Long they 
were in doubt. Then suddenly they 
disappeared. What had happened? An 
eyelid had fluttered. They saw it. The 
soul had returned. There was but one 
camel alive — his and it was nearly 
dead. Worn out, it would not have 
carried two. He was young, I am old. 
He had a better chance to get out of 
the desert afoot, than I. 

FATMEH (drawing nearer) 
What? (she seems hardly able to 
breathe) 

■AMAD (calmly) 
For me, it would have meant the 
completion of that dissolution he had 
just saved me from! Better he had 
left me where I was. He appreciated 
this delicate point and ordered me to 
take the camel. 

FATMEH (repeating) 
He ordered you to — 

AMAD 
Take the camel. We divided the 
water bottle with great fairness. There 
was but one to be found. I would 
have spoken with him of what had 
gone before, forgiven him, perhaps — 

FATMEH (abhorrence of tone) 
Oh! 



me in sight of safety. It was written. 
(He bows toward Mecca) 

FATMEH 
You mean he did that for you? — 

AMAD 
It was, after all, an equitable ar- 
rangement. 



FATMEH 



For you! 



AMAD 
Does not the prophet bid youth? — 

FATMEH 
He gave his life for yours? 

AMAD 

There is nothing more fleeting than 
life! What is it? Nothing! Why 
should we value it? — 

FITZGERALD (aside) 
In others? 

AMAD 
We are here to-day; to-morrow — 



FATMEH 



Go! go! 



AMAD 
There is still something — 

FITZGERALD 
About him? 

AMAD 
No; it pertains to business — 

FATMEH (incoherently) 
Business! — 

AMAD 
Important business! 



AMAD (not noticing) 
But he would have none of it, for- 
got those nice courtesies which men 
of noble station and character should 
have in mind even under the most 
trying circumstances. He comes, how- 
ever, from a new country, a young 
country, where manners, perhaps, are 
rather crude. "Be off, before I change 
my mind!" he said roughly. I would 
have parted otherwise — 

FITZGERALD (curtly) 
But you went? 

AMAD 
I rode away. The camel died, but — 
Allah be praised! — not before it put 



FATMEH 
Go — please — or — (looks at Fitzger- 
ald) 

FITZGERALD (to Amad) 
Come. We will converse apart. 

AMAD (bowing ceremoniously to 

Fatnieh) 
Peace be unto you! 

FATMEH (sudden hysterical laughter) 
Oh! Oh! (exit Fitzgerald and Amad) 

FATMEH (goes to window and looks 
■ out. then comes down stage) 
The caravans! There was to be an- 
other in to-day. (rings bell) 



50 



Enter servant 

FATMEH (to servant) 
Go the caravansary and see if there 
are any new camelmen there now? 

SERVANT 
A number of them have come in. 
The boy from the market just told me. 

FATMEH 
Bring their sheik here, (pausing) 
No; I will go myself, (exits quickly) 

SERVANT 
It is always so. She goes hopefully, 
and returns — (makes gesture of des- 
pair) 

Enter Fitzgerald followed by Amad. 

FITZGERALD (looking toward desk) 
Here we shall find paper and ink. 
You will sign that? 



AMAD 



It was. 



AMAD 



I am willing. 



FITZGERALD (to servant) 
Your mistress has gone out? 

SERVANT 
To the caravansary, (exit servant) 

FITZGERALD 
In these matters it is well to be busi- 
ness-like. 



FITZGERALD (still loriting) 
You mean now? — 

AMAD 
Have I not spoken? 

FITZGERALD 
And she? This young girl is as 
nothing to you now? You have no 
regrets? 

AMAD 
No woman should be as a consum- 
ing flame. 

FITZGERALD 

That, too, came over you in the 
vision? 

AMAD 
It did. I saw myself. Or, I saw I 
was not myself. No man is himself 
who is— 



FITZGERALD 



In love? 



AMAD 
Exactly. Love is a disease. A man 
who has it, is ill. Now I am well. 

FITZGERALD 
You look it. 



AMAD (calmly) 
A Mohammedan's word is as good 
as his bond. 

FITZGERALD (ivriting) 
So you were commanded to tell 
this— 

AMAD 
In a vision. One never dares dis- 
obey a voice in the wilderness. 

FITZGERALD (writing) 
Divine injunction, eh? Yes, I know 
your people frequently have visions. 
There's a water-pipe. 

Servant enters, brings coal for pipe 
and goes out. Amad smokes placidly. 

FITZGERALD 
The girl — Fatmeh has never known 
anything of this? 

AMAD 

It was Light of Life's secret. 



FITZGERALD 



And yours! 



I am tranquil. 

FITZGERALD 

You appear so. 

AMAD 
I see life once more as it should be. 
A Muslim should have many wives. 
Each in turn should share his favor. 
It is hot equitable to prefer one too 
greatly. 

FITZGERALD (still ivriting) 
Too great honor! 

AMAD 

Exactly! Besides, (impressively) 
disorganizing a man's household, a 
too passionate regard for one woman 
is displeasing to Allah! 

FITZGERALD 
Indeed? Why? 

AMAD 
Love for Allah should take prece- 
dence over all. This came over me. A 



woman what is she? Like one of these 
bubbles in this bottle! 

FITZGERALD 
Apt comparison! 

AMAD (spreading out his arms) 

While Allah is all. Allah is the 
bubble, the bottle, the air, everything. 
(His voire beeomes rapt.) Y'ammee! 
Ashmakee! (ehanting) 

"The Beloved of my heart, Allah 
visited me in the night. 

I stood to show him honor — " 

FITZGERALD (aside, still biisy at 

desk) 
Ah, the Arab Solomon's Song! The 
Song of Songs! 

AMAD (half-intoning) 
"Hast thou come at midnight and 
not feared the watchman? 
I feared, but love has taken my soul 

and breath." 
Love for Allah! 

FITZGERALD (putting doivn pen and 
turning) 
Sign here. 

AMAD (rising and crossing to the 

desk) 
There? It is done. I have obeyed 
the voice in the vision. Peace! (He 
bows and exits, with grand manner.) 

FITZGERALD 
If all evil doers only had visions! 
Still it was as well to get his name to 
the story. The effects of a vision may 
wear off. A man may repent of re- 
pentance, (rises) Small wonder Amad 
and Light of Life plotted for the girl! 
Where Amad made a fatal mistake was 
not to have continued in the paternal 
role. He should have let ambition and 
avarice suffice, at his age. (Pauses) 
What a secret! How will she take it? 

Perhaps when she gets over this young 
American's death? — (thoughtfully) 
They say time assuages every grief. 
The girl is beautiful. One can not be 
long with her without — (suddenlij he 
laughs) By Jove! Is villainy catch- 
ing? (straightens) Too bad our 
young American friend should never 
have learned the real story of his left- 
hand bride! — 

VOICE OF DERVISH (below in the 
street) 
Draw near, all followers of the 
prophet and lovers of a good tale! 



FITZGERALD 
Eh? (looking over balcony to scene 
beneath) 

DERVISH (below, unseen) 
Never had Aboo-Zeydee a better 
story to tell! 

Fitzgerald goes to bell hastily and 
rings. 

DERVISH (below) 
This one concerns a war-like hero — 

Enter servant. 

FITZGERALD 
Go down there and bring up that 
romance-reciter from the street, (ser- 
vant exits) 

FITZGERALD (looking doivn from 

balcony) 
It is— 

DERVISH (below) 
Draw near! — draw near! (murmur 
of voices) 

FITZGERALD (still looking down) 
The servant speaks with him. The 
crowd expostulates. But he comes — 
(turns from balcony, closing window 
after him.) 

Enter Dervish. He wears Mohamme- 
dan costume but does not have beard. 
He seems weak and uncertain, and dis- 
plays evidence of light-headedness. 

FITZGERALD 
I\Iy dear chap! 



Fitzgerald! 



DERVISH 



FITZGERALD 
So you did manage to pull it off, to 
get here? 

DERVISH 

Yes. (quickly) She is safe? 



Safe. 



And well? 



Except — 



FITZGERALD 

DERVISH 
FITZGERALD 



DERVISH (hastily) 
Except? 

FITZGERALD (laughing) 
She has been somewhat solicitous 
concerning the fate of a certain Aboo- 
Zeydee, late her lord and master! 



52 



DERVISH (quickly) 
She seemed, then, to care? (aside) 
I had a mad dream she cared for me. 
But now I know it tvas a dream, a 
fever of the brain. What absurd fan- 
cies come to a man in the desert! (to 
Fitzgerald) I told you she was my 
wife. But it was only a Mohammedan 
wedding of convenience. I was a 
make-shift husband. Ha! ha! (laugh- 
ing derisively) An heroic role, eh, old 
chap? 

FITZGERALD (smiling) 
Rather! With the few embellish- 
ments you infused in the part! She 
knows how you gave up your camel to 
Amad, and when nothing was heard of 
you, she has been led to expect you 
paid for your wholly inexcusable mag- 
nanimity with — 

DERVISH 
She knows about the camel and 
Amad?— Then he?— 

FITZGERALD 
Has been here? Yes. 

DERVISH (fiercely) 
He has again found her. And I 
(bitterly) gave him the means. He 
has dared seek her and — 

FITZGERALD 
Annoy her? No. On the contrary! 
But where have you been? 

DERVISH 
Hades! Water gave out. I, too! 
Only the sun kept on boiling, blazing, 
blistering. Bowled me over near a 
lot of bones — a camel's and a man's. 
Wondered if the unfortunate devil had 
been parboiled, and sizzled and griz- 
zled the way I was. Poor chap! Think 
I went crazy. Tried to laugh, but it 
hurt — how it hurt! Throat was like 
dust — dry as a mummy's. Managed to 
get up once or twice. Ridiculous! 
Shadow just wobbled around! Looked 
like a drunken shadow. No wonder 
the birds laughed. Did you ever hear 
the birds laugh? I have. It's like 
lifting the lid off something — the in- 
fernal place, I guess. Well, that 
shadow wobbled some more, and then 
gave it up. The universe looked so 
big! The sands seemed never to get 
tired bumping against the edge of the 
sky. It seemed so absurd and hope- 
less to keep on wobbling. So I went 
to sleep and dreamed I was a fly that 
had strayed into a kitchen stove and 
someone had shut the door, (pause) 
When I came to, found myself in a 



Persian camp. Host was a sun-wor- 
shipper. That seemed funny, too. But 
he gave me the first water I ever drank 
and let me forage with the dogs. 
Pretty well done up, should like to 
have stayed longer with him, but had 
to go on, to get to the coast. Time 
limit to our wager, you know. 

FITZGERALD 
Never mind that. 

DERVISH 
Got to. Must think of her. Fool to 
throw away a fortune. She is, most 
likely, penniless. 

FITZGERALD (peculiar look) 
Is she? 

DERVISH 
Going to take a pilgrim's ship in a 
few days. Then for home. Win out 
yet. Send her the ten thousand 
pounds. That'll help some. You're to 
let her think it's some of her own 
estates, you've dug up. Her father 
had an orange plantation or some- 
thing. 

FITZGERALD 
Why not let her know it's from you? 

DERVISH 
She wouldn't take it. I'm only a — 
a substitute husband. Just married 
her so as to unmarry her. She under- 
stands. Now she's safe from Amad, 
I've got to pronounce that triple di- 
vorce—set her free. 

FITZGERALD 
Do you want to do that? 

DERVISH 
Isn't a question of "want." Only 
what's right and square. 

FITZGERALD (chaffing tone) 
Even if you learned she has turned 
out to be far from the penniless young 
person you fancied her? 

DERVISH (eagerly) 
She will have enough to live on, 
then? 

FITZGERALD 
Enough and to spare! She can live 
on Park Lane, London; near the Bois, 
Paris; or on Fifth Avenue, New York. 
Also, she will be "received," as the 
world calls it, anywhere. Your own 
countrymen, or women, will vie (laugh- 
ing) with one another in adding her 
to their list of eligibles. In fact, a 



53 



professional mustahall, or substitute 
husband, would think twice before vol- 
untarily giving up such a wife — espe- 
cially after having placed her under 
some slight (accent) obligation to him. 

DERVISH (quickly) 
That's just it. (feverish, over-confi- 
dential manner) You see, she might 
from a sense of gratitude — 

FITZGERALD 
Let the marriage stand? 

DERVISH 
You've hit it. Not that I've done 
much! Only, don't you see, women 
may exaggerate these things. There's 
great danger of that, (over-confident- 
ially) And it wouldn't be straight for 
me to allow her to marry me, or re- 
marry, (with a constrained laugh) for 
any such reason as that. 

FITZGERALD 
Not if she loves you? 

DERVISH (lifting hand) 
Don't! I know the difference be- 
tween desert dreams and reality now. 

FITZGERALD (dryly) 
Well, it isn't everyone who would 
resign the daughter of an English 
viscount. 

DERVISH 
What are you talking about? 

FITZGERALD 
Her father was no more Mohamme- 
dan than you. 

DERVISH (reproachfully) 
Trying to usurp my job of romance- 
reciter? 

FITZGERALD 

Truth is stranger than fiction. 

DERVISH (false mirth) 
Ha! ha! What I always say. Go 
on, old chap. 

FITZGERALD 
Amad and Light of Life combined 
a great deal of worldly calculation in 
this young lady's first marriage. Light 
of Life had secret evidence of her 
real parentage. This information she 
laid before Amad, and together they 
entered into a little business arrange- 
ment. 

DERVISH (disapprovingly) 
You'll have to do better than that! 



FITZGERALD 
Wait! Your wife's mother was a 
lady of unimpeachable family who 
lived in the little principality of Mon- 
atania, bordering on the domains of 
the sick man of Europe. Her father 
was a wealthy viscount, not unknown 
to me personally. Like Byron he took 
a great deal of interest in the politics 
of Greece, but, occasionally, business 
called him home — to England. During 
such an absence, the Turks, half-brig- 
ands, half-soldiers, made one of their 
periodical descents on the bordering 
principality. They looted, pillaged and 
killed. The mother, among the few 
spared, doubtless on account of her 
beauty, was carried off by the brutal 
ravagers. 

DERVISH (shaking head) 
Commonplace! Commonplace! Lacks 
invention, my dear chap! 

FITZGERALD (tolerantly) 
True; it does sound commonplace. 
The Turks are always doing that — 
carrying off someone. However, be 
that as it may, the viscount offered a 
great reward, and, doubtless, would 
have recovered his wife, had not cer- 
tain Greek troops, frenzied by these 
atrocities, sought to avenge their 
wrongs at the point of the sword. Some 
of the brigands were cut to pieces; 
others fled. The mother was reported 
dead. 

DERVISH (patronizingly) 
That's better! That's the way to 
hold your audience. You're improving. 

FITZGERALD 
As a matter of fact, the mother was 
not slain but carried to a fanatical 
Muslim center, where, thereafter she 
was lost to her own world. Such things 
have happened. 

DERVISH (chuckling) 
They have. Tum! tum! tum! (makes 
as if playing on a kanoon) How like 
you the tale, good people? I beg your 
pardon, old chap. Go on. 

FITZGERALD 
Shortly after her captivity, the 
mother gave birth to a child. Later, to 
avoid being sold into slavery, the 
mother became the Mohammedan wife 
of a Musalman. The child, by the 
English father, was placed in a mis- 
sion when the mother died. Her story 
was not revealed. The Mohammedan 
husband took for his second wife — 
Light of Life. This woman, learning 



54 



by some means of the child's ancestry 
and that there were large possessions 
in England to which she is legal heir- 
ess, entered into a compact to marry 
her to Amad. They expected to get 
possession of the girl's money. For- 
tunately about this time you came 
along. 

DERVISH 
Like the hero in a popular novel! 
Excellent! Bravo! (applauds ivith his 
hands) Vast possessions! The daugh- 
ter of a viscount! Not at all bad, old 
chap! Of course, it's a joke. Your 
English idea of humor. Ha! ha! But 
you can't get the laugh on me. Think 
I'm like the gaping rabble who drink 
in all the silly tales about genii, or 
princesses, or daughters of Emirs or 
viscounts, and all that sort of thing? 

FITZGERALD (looking at him keenly) 
The tale, then, does not sound plaus- 
ible? 

DERVISH 
All good tales do. (jeeringly) Why, 
I make mine sometimes seem as real. 
You did very well. Almost in the ro- 
mance-reciter's class, yourself. 

FITZGERALD (humoring him.) 
Say no more about it. What's more 
to the point, you had better lie down 
and rest. 

DERVISH 
Rest? That sounds like a joke, too. 
Lots to do before I can do that. Where 
is she? She is well? Asked you that 
before, (passes hand over forehead) 
Must be off. 



FITZGERALD 



Sit down. 



regards dervish) At once. You know 
where to find — the person? 

SERVANT 

I think so. (Exit servant) 

FITZGERALD (to dervish) 
A little business. One must always 
attend to business, you know, even — 

DERVISH (rising) 
I am interrupting — 

FITZGERALD 

On the contrary! Nothing to do 
now, except to order for you, what 
you Americans call a square meal. 

DERVISH 
No you won't. Can't accept. Wager, 
you know. 

FITZGERALD (aside) 
That confounded wager! (aloud) 
But, old chap, you're got to. 

DERVISH 
Won't. Besides, I've a piaster or 
two in my pocket. Enough for one of 
the native dishes. Jolly messes, 
those! Hunger's the best sauce. Don't 
I know? Why, I've eaten old goat 
that was a dish for the gods. But I 
really mustn't take up any more of 
your time. How did you say she was? 

FITZGERALD 
Well. You're not going to see her 
before you go? 

DERVISH 
Better not. Look at these rags. 
(laughs) More appropriate for a pil- 
grims' ship than in a lady's boudoir. 



DERVISH (loavering weakly) 
A moment, perhaps — no longer — 

(sits) 

FITZGERALD (going to desk) 
Excuse me an instant, (writes and 
reads as he does so) "He whom you 
seek, is here. He is well, only light- 
headed. A touch of desert fever. He 
is bound to leave at once, (touches 
bell. Dervish starts, relaxes into ab- 
straction again) on a pilgrim ship. If 
he does, I will not answer for the con- 
sequences." (seals paper) 

Enter servant. 



FITZGERALD 
Well, you were once two vagabonds, 
together. 



Or longer. 



DERVISH 
A thousand years ago. 
(going) 

FITZGERALD 
Better wait! 



DERVISH 
Can't! See you again after — in New 
York — if I get there. Appreciate all 
you've done for her. Let me see? You 
said Amad was here? What for? 



FITZGERALD 
Take this to — the person to whom it 
is addressed. (Servant looks, starts. 



FITZGERALD 
Never mind, now. You might think 
was romancing again. Only, do you 



55 



know, it was lucky you did give up 
your camel to Amad. 

DERVISH 
Was tempted not to. After he re- 
covered, I even started to ride away. 
"Leave him there." "Give him half 
the water." "That's enough for him." 
"If he perishes, it is the will of Allah 
and through no fault of yours." "She 
will, then, be rid of him forever." 
Those were the voices I heard. But I 
rode back. Thank God! I rode back. 
He is an old man. I think it was the 
white of his beard suddenly held me. 
It seemed like a white flag against the 
pitiless yellow sands. Gad! How my 
head swims! That cursed sun gets 
into your brain. It burns and it bores. 
Bores! That's the word. Makes you 
feel as if someone has an auger and 
is engaged in a little carpentering 
work, with your head for a board. I'll 
go somewhere, I guess, and lie down. 
So long! Give her my regards! My 
best, you understand? (stares before 
him; steps toward door; stops; sivays 
to and fro. The door opens.) 

Enter Fatmeh. 

FATMEH (agitated) 
I met the servant with your note — 
(suddenly starts. She sees dervish, 
gives a cry) 

DERVISH 
Fatmeh! (He starts impulsively to- 
wards her; stops.) No, no! The di- 
vorce! Yes, that's what I came for. 
(He steps toxcard Fitzgerald; assumes 
joeular manner.) You be the witness, 
old chap. Quite sufficient; it will do. 
It will he binding. Or rather, unbind- 
ing, (to Fatmeh) You are no longer 
my wife. (Fatmeh shrinks) I say it 
once. You heard me, Fitzgerald? Didn't 
think it would be so hard to do it 
when El Sabbagh asked me to marry 
her that evening in the court of the 
mosque. Seemed like a joke, then. 
Not that's it's so very serious now, of 
course, (forced jocularity, then to Fat- 
meh) You are no longer — 

FATMEH (putting out arms) 
No, no! 

DERVISH 
— my wife. That's tivice. Fitzger- 
old. Constitutes the lesser separation, 
which is easily repaired. But the 
greater? — the one for all time, for- 
ever! — think of it! — the total and com- 
plete divorce, that's what's coming 
next. Had to keep her a little while 



on account of Amad. But now she's 
in a Christian zone, she's got to be 
free! To be rid of a make-believe hus- 
band; a make-believe man! That's 
what she called me. Let me see? How 
many times did I say it? Twice? Yes; 
twice. Three times and out, according 
to the laws under which we were made 
one! (to Fatmeh) I divorce — set you 
free! You are no longer my wife! 



FATMEH 



Oh! Oh! 



DERVISH 
There! it's done! (laughs) And 
now, goodbye! See you in old Man- 
hattan town, Fitzgerald, old man. (to 
Fatmeh) Never see you again! Glad 
everything's turned out so well — • Your 
future, I mean. 

FATMEH (hardly able to speak) 
So well? 

DERVISH (light icave of the hand) 
Good-bye! (aside, passionately ) How 
beautiful she is! (aloud, lightly) Good- 
bye! (starts for door; suddenly lurches 
and falls. Fatmeh, loith a cry, springs 
forward, drops to the floor and takes 
his head in her arms.) 

FITZGERALD (looking toward her, 
aside) 
I don't believe there's any doulst 
about his getting well now. (He steps 
to desk, takes paper Amad has signed 
from pocket and places it on desk. 
Aside) She can read this document of 
Amad's at her leisure. 

DERVISH (arousing himself) 
Fatmeh! Beloved! 

FATMEH 
Yes, yes! (to Fitzgerald) The doc- 
tor! 

FITZGERALD (going) 
The missionary is both doctor and — 
pastor. Do you want himf 

FATMEH (not noticing significance of 
question) 
Yes, yes! 

DERVISH (arousing himself again) 
Fatmeh! You here? (ivonderingly) 
And with youi* arms around me? 

FATMEH 
Why not? 

DERVISH 
Then it is real that — 



NOV 29 1911 



56 



FATMEH 
Yes. 



I love you? 

FITZGERALD (at door to Fatmeh) 
Shall I tell the missionary he will be 
expected to act in both capacities? 



FATMEH 

Yes, yes! 



(not catching words) 



\ 



FITZGERALD (laughing) 
Good! After a Mohammedan di- 
vorce what could be more appropriate 
than a Christian wedding! (exits) 



^ 



-SLOW CURTAIN 



Lb Mr '12 



